


The Lion's Guest

by Hlmsluvr13



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lady Ailyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 21:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 149,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hlmsluvr13/pseuds/Hlmsluvr13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the War of Five Kings, Lady Ailyn consents to be Lord Tywin's guest as he makes his way to Harrenhal and King's Landing.  In a battle of wills, who will triumph: lion or hawk?  Partly AU.  I own nothing but my own characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lion's Guest

“Set up camp here, Kevan. I want to be sure of Lord Silvyn’s allegiances before we cross his land,” said Lord Tywin, surveying the area.  
“At once, my lord,” Ser Kevan replied, spurring his horse.  
Lord Tywin remained in the saddle, gazing at the city of Willow Glen. Its walls were strong and the castle looked impregnable even from this distance. Casterly Rock was several times its size but for all its insignificance, the city of Willow Glen had not been breached for several hundred years. He could hardly march up to its gates and demand that Lord Silvyn surrender all his men to the Lannister cause. At the same time, a needless battle with thousands of fresh soldiers was not something he or his men could endure. He would need to write a carefully worded letter requesting an assurance of some kind that his men would be allowed to pass. He pulled his own white stallion around and headed down through the growing forest of red Lannister tents.

At first light the next morning, with his brother by his side, Lord Tywin sat down to write to Lord Silvyn.   
“House Greystone has been historically neutral in past skirmishes. If he won’t join us, he may at least be persuaded not to send word to the Starks of our movements. We’re having enough trouble keeping the scouts quiet as it is,” said Ser Kevan, talking aloud to himself rather than inciting conversation.  
“The man has made decent decisions in the past. It is now in his best interest to make another,” said Lord Tywin quietly, sealing the letter with crimson wax and stamping it with his roaring lion sigil. He stood and was about to shout for a messenger when one of his men came running into the tent.  
“If it pleases my lord, there are two riders approaching the camp. And …er….” The man stumbled about for the proper words.  
Lord Tywin’s eyes narrowed.  
“Out with it,” he commanded, glaring.  
“Forgive me my lord. One of the riders is a woman,” the man finished.  
“What?” Ser Kevan looked to his brother.  
Lord Tywin’s frown deepened.  
“We have been anticipated,” he growled as he strode past the messenger, Kevan close on his heels. He thrust the tent flap aside and blinked in the early morning light.   
The newborn sun was tearing red streaks across the delicate blue sky as Lord Tywin’s sharp gaze focused on the two riders approaching his camp. One was indeed a woman; a long blue cloak edged with silver fox fur hung about her shoulders, her brown hair, streaked with gold, was pulled up and tucked back behind her head. She dismounted gracefully and handed the reins of her horse over to the knight who was riding with her. From Lord Tywin’s viewpoint, they had a silent conversation and then she turned to face the camp, clasping a square of parchment in her gloved hand. She advanced into the camp, her head held high. Her deep blue dress was plain but she wore it as though it was an elegant gown. Many Lannister soldiers were standing outside their tents to watch her entrance. She walked past them all as if she were walking down the aisle at court in King’s Landing. Her gaze remained fixed on Lord Tywin.  
Finally, the lady reached Tywin’s tent and she dropped a deep, elegant curtsy to its lord.  
“My Lord Tywin, I bring greetings and a message from my father, Lord Silvyn. I am Lady Ailyn, his eldest,” she said, her voice soft yet clear.  
Tywin merely frowned.  
“Surely a raven would have sufficed?” he questioned, searching her face.  
“My father felt the message rather too heavy for a bird,” she replied with a small smile.   
“So he sends a woman into my camp in his stead?” queried Tywin, derisively.  
“I am here willingly my lord.”  
She held out the small, folded sheet of parchment to him. There was a slight hesitation on Lord Tywin’s side but he reached out and plucked the note from her hands, still searching her grey eyes. He took a step back and drew up the tent flap, holding it aloft for her to pass through. She bowed her head to him and stepped inside. Lord Tywin’s head remained stationary but his eyes followed her every step. Ser Kevan recognized the predatory, calculating glint in his sibling’s eye as he followed him into the tent. Lord Tywin sat down at his desk, setting aside his own letter and broke the blue seal of a diving hawk on the parchment. Lady Ailyn stood in front of him, her hands clasped patiently before her, watching all of Lord Tywin’s movements. Ser Kevan stood off to Tywin’s left and several other lords had crept quietly in to hear the new developments.   
The lion’s eyes flicked quickly over the contents of her father’s letter, paused, glanced up at her to gauge her reaction and then read the letter again. Finally, he sat back and regarded her thoughtfully for a moment.  
“You know what this letter says?” asked Lord Tywin curiously.  
“I helped him write it my lord,” Lady Ailyn replied.  
A golden eyebrow arched upwards in surprise.  
“You wished for assurances my lord, that you will not be attacked or informed upon while you make camp in front of my father’s city. I am here to honor my father’s words. He will not move against you while I am in the middle of your camp,” informed Lady Ailyn, her gaze moving from Lord Tywin to Ser Kevan.  
“So long as I am your…guest, you are free to do as you wish on his lands,” confirmed Lady Ailyn trying to read Lord Tywin’s face.  
“Did not Lord Silvyn have a son?” hazarded Ser Kevan quietly.  
“Yes, I have a brother but Mardyn is only nine. I have a little more experience negotiating,” she replied.  
“You are more expendable than he is you mean,” said Lord Tywin harshly.  
She did not flinch at his words but nodded her assent, her face betraying nothing.  
“You have my father’s oath of honor that he will not attack you whilst you remained encamped on his lands. If you, in turn, agree to allow me to send one raven to him daily and promise to return me to him unharmed when the fighting is done then we have an agreement,” she summarized for the benefit of the other men who had not read her father’s requests.  
There was a long silence. Lord Tywin and Lady Ailyn locked gazes, each searching, judging, trying to read the other’s thoughts. Lady Ailyn proved the more successful.   
“And if you try to use me to levy men from Willow Glen” she began, but Tywin overrode her.  
“I assume Lord Silvyn will consider the truce broken and march on me without delay,” he finished. She nodded once in confirmation.   
“If he dares march against me, he must know he will never see you alive again,” threatened the Lord of Casterly Rock in a low tone.  
“That is a risk we are both willing to take,” she said firmly, her thin shoulders straightening slightly.  
Lord Tywin regarded her critically for a moment then glanced at his brother.  
Lady Ailyn noticed and offered to step outside so that they could confer in private but Tywin waved away her suggestion impatiently.  
“My knight is willing to take your reply back to my father when you are ready my lord,” she prompted as his silence continued.  
“Very well.”  
Lord Tywin quickly wrote a few lines and sealed it, shouting for his own messenger when he had finished.  
“If it’s not too much trouble my lord, I would like to keep my horse and the leather satchel strapped to its back if I am to stay here,” she said respectfully.  
The guard came running in and knelt beside Lady Ailyn facing his lord. Tywin held out the letter and sent the man off to deliver it.  
“Stable her horse with mine and bring her things here when you are done,” he added, rising.  
His squire moved at once to do his lord’s bidding.  
Tywin glanced at her, stood up and strode over to his Lannister bannermen.  
“I want it known that Lady Ailyn is under my protection. If any man touches her, I will personally remove his hands and send him to beg for mercy at Willow Glen’s city gates. Is that understood?” demanded Lord Tywin, looking down on his bannermen.   
“Yes my lord,” came the swift, unanimous reply.  
“Good. Go spread the word around the camp,” ordered their lord, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.   
“Where will my tent be?” asked Lady Ailyn after they had gone.  
Tywin turned and gave her another appraising look.  
“You will not have a tent.”  
Lady Ailyn frowned and opened her mouth to protest but Lord Tywin held up a hand.  
“You will share my tent. I will have it altered so you have a private chamber. You are not to leave it unless you are accompanying me. Since your safety is paramount, I do not want you far from my sight,” said Lord Tywin, with an air of finality.  
Ailyn closed her mouth but pursed her lips in displeasure.  
“You will not speak unless spoken to. If I order you to do something, you will obey quickly and respectfully,” continued Lord Tywin.  
“Yes my lord I am aware of how to be a woman,” snapped Lady Ailyn disdainfully, cutting him off.  
The Lord of Lannister’s green eyes darkened, his countenance turned thunderous. He advanced on her slowly, deliberately. Ser Kevan moved to stand near Lady Ailyn, his own face apprehensive.  
To her credit, the lady did not step back but raised her chin and met his gaze. He drew up uncomfortably close to her and spoke softly:  
“And if you try my patience, you will regret it.”  
She controlled a shiver that threatened to crawl up her spine and nodded, dropping her eyes to the ground. Her father had raised her on stories of the man towering over her. She knew the ruthlessness he was capable of, hidden under the guise of honor and family. Lord Tywin remained standing before her, his glare piercing her.  
Finally, Lord Tywin’s messenger broke the silence as he arrived with her satchel. He turned away from her and she slowly let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.   
“Search it for weapons,” commanded Lord Tywin and his man obediently put the bag on the ground, and with an apologetic glance at Lady Ailyn, opened it.   
Lady Ailyn clenched her jaw and bit back her protests.   
He rummaged around amongst her clothing and possessions and eventually pulled out a bow case. Lord Tywin frowned and held out his hand. His squire placed it carefully in his lord’s hands and bent to his task again. Lord Tywin pulled open the leather clasp on the end and slid her bow out several inches. His face gave nothing away but it was one of the finer bows he had seen in a long time. The arrows were trimmed with perfectly symmetrical dark blue feathers.   
“You are proficient with this?” asked Lord Tywin, turning to her.  
“Better than most of your men,” she replied without hesitation.   
He gave her a skeptical look and said: “I will retain this while you are here.”   
It was not a suggestion.   
After several more minutes, she was relieved of the pair of daggers her father had given her on her eighteenth nameday. Finally, the messenger stood up and informed his lord that there was nothing else of interest in her belongings.  
“See to her horse and gather some men. I want my private chamber halved with one side for Lady Ailyn. Furnish it and put her belongings in, it save for the weapons,” said Tywin waving him off. The squire bowed and left, hefting her bag onto his shoulder and carrying her bow and daggers in his hands.   
“Kevan, find Ser Adam. I want to know the current position of the Northmen,” ordered Tywin, turning to face his brother.   
“At once, my lord,” said Ser Kevan nodding.  
When he had gone, Lady Ailyn met Lord Tywin’s glare again.  
“I am not sure I’m comfortable with these arrangements my lord,” she said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.  
“I promised your lord father I would keep you safe, not comfortable my lady,” was his reply as he sat back down.  
“Why did you take my weapons?” she persisted coming to stand before him again.  
“A lady should not have such things. Weapons belong in the hands of men.”  
She didn’t like the paternal scolding in his tone.  
“My hands are just as capable. Do you think I would try to use them against you? I may be a woman but I am far from stupid Lord Tywin,” she countered, her temper beginning to flare.  
“That remains to be seen. Until I decide otherwise, you will retain only what I allow you to have,” said the Lord of Casterly Rock.  
“Then I am entirely reliant on your mercy my lord.”  
“See that you don’t exhaust what little I possess, my lady. Kevan! What news?” barked Tywin, as his brother strode back into the tent.  
“ They've made camp on the far side of The Neck my lord. No movement,” informed Ser Kevan with a respectful nod to Lord Tywin and Lady Ailyn.  
“Good. Then we have time to plan. I want several scouts sent out to the north and west to confirm the terrain. There will be a council meeting this evening after dinner,” instructed Tywin rising.  
“My lord,” said Ser Kevan, bowing in acknowledgement. He set off to find the other captains.  
“Come,” Lord Tywin beckoned her as he moved to leave.   
For a moment, she thought he was going to offer her his arm in some absurd display of chivalry but he merely moved past her, assuming she would follow. Reluctantly, she went out after him and fell into step with him as he walked down an avenue between rows of tents.   
“Do you intend to be here long my lord?” she asked after they had walked in silence for a time.  
“I do not discuss battle plans with women as a rule,” he replied curtly, glancing at her as she hurried to keep up with him.  
She met his glance and decided against any further attempts at conversation. The fact that she breathed seemed to bother him.  
They turned a corner and came into a sort of clearing. There was a good ten yard gap in the row of tents around a large central tent. Wealth and power apparently bought what passed for privacy in this sea of shared living space.  
Two guards held a tent flap open for their lord to enter.   
Lord Tywin went inside and with one last glance around, Lady Ailyn followed him in. The tent was spacious and well furnished though they were in the middle of a war. There was another desk and chair off to one side and a large table with several more chairs for dining. Golden candlesticks and cups were in abundance. There were maps and papers on all available surfaces. Straight in front of her were two more openings which she assumed were their rooms. The fabric covering the ‘doorway’ to both rooms was down, the interiors hidden from view. Lady Ailyn and Lord Tywin stepped to the side as some more items were brought in. She watched a large candelabra and a box of candles moved into what she assumed would be her room. A small black grate for heat in the evening and a plain screen so that she might have a little privacy while changing. Once all the men had left, she was ushered inside her new chamber.   
“Apologies my lady but we do not have a bed to spare at present,” said the man, holding the fabric back for her to enter.  
“That’s quite alright,” she said graciously and stepped inside.  
Were it not for the tent fabric instead of walls and the rush mats on the ground instead of a stone floor, she could have been in one of the lesser guest rooms at Willow Glen. There was a straw mattress with several blankets and a large fur placed atop two large crates to keep it off the ground. A small dresser and table with a pitcher for water were off to one side as well as a small set of shelves. On the ‘wall’ she shared with Lord Tywin, she could make out some large piece of furniture (a wardrobe?) taking up nearly half his side of the tent. She didn’t like the idea of only being separated from him by several flimsy pieces of tent fabric but she could ask for no more.  
She could feel Lord Tywin’s eyes boring into the back of her skull so she turned to face him.  
“Thank you my lord. This is much better than I had imagined,” she said with a small smile.   
“Good. You will remain here until dinner. I have matters to attend to,” said Lord Tywin, dismissing the guard who had come into her chamber with them.  
She bowed her head slightly in acquiescence.  
He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice.  
“You are a guest under my care and I have sworn to look to your safety while you are here, however; should you give me any reason to question your true motives, you will suffer the consequences. There are many things worse than pain my lady.”  
Her cool grey eyes met his sharp green ones, unflinchingly.  
“You do not need to remind me of the precariousness of my position here my lord; I am very aware of it. I chose to be here in the hopes that it may save lives and I will do nothing to threaten your belief in my aim. I do not trust you either, my lord, but I am here now and so for all our sakes, I suggest that we get on with it.”  
She waited for a reaction of any kind to her words but he remained as still as stone. Finally, as her nerves were starting to fray at the edges, he made a noncommittal noise in his throat and swept out without another word.  
She took a breath to steady herself and then went to her satchel to unpack her things. In the main room of their tent, Lord Tywin started up a muffled conversation with several other men. She was still annoyed about her weapons being confiscated but Lord Tywin did not become the man he was by being trusting. Ailyn decided to let him think he had the upper hand. Lady Ailyn smiled to herself as the daggers in her boots nudged against her calves. She was no lion but hawks still have claws.


	2. At Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Dinner conversation...

Lady Ailyn had been sitting on her bed with a book for the last few hours when Ser Kevan cleared his throat outside her chamber and asked for admittance.  
“Come,” she said, closing her book and looking up.  
Ser Kevan pulled open the curtain and stepped inside.  
“Dinner is ready my lady,” announced Ser Kevan holding the cloth aside for her.  
“I hope I was not expected to change into a nicer gown,” remarked Lady Ailyn, uncurling her legs and getting up.  
“No,” he assured her with a shake of the head and a smile.  
They walked together to the dining tent. Lord Tywin and the rest of his banner men were already seated but they stood when she and Ser Kevan entered. Kevan led her to the other head of the table, opposite Lord Tywin and pulled back her chair.  
“Thank you,” she said quietly, giving him a smile.  
As she sat down, so too did the rest of the lords.  
“Good evening my lords,” said Lady Ailyn courteously, glancing around the table. There was a general murmur of ‘my lady’ and the nodding of heads. Brief introductions were made all around.  
“Would my lady care to say a few words before we eat?” asked Lord Hugh, a man with kind blue eyes and a shock of white hair, after the last lord had been introduced.  
“That is very thoughtful of you, but no, I don’t pray Lord Hugh,” replied Lady Ailyn with an air of finality, unfolding her napkin and placing it in her lap.  
Lord Tywin eyed her curiously and pronounced, “Most women pray.”  
She met his gaze and countered, “I have heard they do.” Her tone did not leave any room for questioning.  
She cut up some of the roast fowl on her plate and began eating. The rest of the table soon followed suit after a quick glance at Lord Tywin.  
They ate in an uneasy silence for a short time, when Lady Ailyn spoke up.  
“Lord Hugh, might I ask you something?”  
He turned to face her.  
“Certainly my lady. What is it you wish to know?” he asked.  
“Are you the same Elden Hugh who won the battle of Two Hills?” she inquired, nibbling at some cheese.  
Lord Hugh blue eyes opened wide in surprise.  
“Indeed I am. How does my lady know of it? The battle must surely have been before your time,” he questioned, looking at her with interest.  
“I was two at the time,” she confirmed with a smile. “My father told me the story some years later. Did you know that Prince Cristos used that same maneuver about a hundred years ago?”  
The golden fork in Lord Tywin’s hand, which had been on its way to his mouth, halted its progress.   
“Are you in the habit of studying ancient battles my lady?” he asked, frowning at her.  
“I always find tales of men trying to outsmart or out-brutalize one another interesting,” she replied  
“I think there is more to history than that,” tempered Ser Kevan, taking a sip of wine.   
“Perhaps there is. I have not had as much time as I would like to read all there is to say on the matter of warfare,” she acknowledged, pulling another strip of meat off the chicken on her plate.  
Lord Tywin put his fork down and drank some wine.  
“While you are here, you maybe able to do more than read about warfare; you may be caught in the middle of it,” said Lord Hugh, in a non-threatening way.  
“True. Then I am sure my feelings will change on the subject, though I am hoping wisdom will not allow it to come to that,” she said quietly, with a passing glance at Lord Tywin who had not resumed eating.  
She smiled at him to lighten the mood a little.  
“Forgive me my lord, I did not mean to put you off your appetite. I can discuss something more ladylike if you would prefer,” she offered in good humor, but it was lost on the lion of Casterly Rock.  
“I think my lords would be rather out of their depth in a discussion about dresses and hairstyles,” remarked Lord Tywin dryly.   
Her hackles rose at his belittling tone.  
“It is a lady’s duty to make pleasant conversation; however, I am more than willing to change the subject. Would you rather talk about the war you seem to be losing?” asked Lady Ailyn pointedly, putting her glass down.  
A hush fell over the table and the air grew a little chill.  
Ser Kevan looked down the table at Lord Tywin in a conciliatory way but the lord of Lannister’s face had turned to cold marble.  
“Are you married my lady?” he asked, taking a drink of wine.  
Lady Ailyn was completely taken aback by his question. She hesitated and then replied quietly, “No my lord.”  
“How old are you?” pressed the lion, sensing retreat.  
The corner of Lady Ailyn’s mouth quirked as she picked up her own glass.  
“Old enough to know that question is impertinent.”  
Lord Tywin continued to stare her down.  
She pursed her lips in frustration.  
“I was married. My husband died…three years ago,” she conceded, trying to keep her voice from wavering.  
“Three years? Why did your father allow that?” demanded the Lord of Casterly Rock.  
“Because I asked him for three years of peace before having to consider the prospect of marrying again,” replied Lady Ailyn, her own voice sharpening.  
“That is far too much time wasted. Why would you not wish to remarry?” badgered Lord Tywin, heedless of the discomfort around the table.  
She didn’t think she could keep her composure much longer. If he was determined to be cruel, then so would she. Lady Ailyn met his merciless pale eyes with a glare of her own.   
“No doubt for some of the same reasons you have not.”  
Ser Kevan almost choked on his wine. Lord Hugh blustered and coughed, trying not to meet his lord’s gaze. A line had been crossed. No one ever mentioned Lord Tywin’s late wife in his hearing. He had not forbidden it but no one was prepared to find out what would happen if they did.  
Very slowly, not taking his eyes from her, Lord Tywin finished what he was chewing on, wiped his mouth and tossed down his napkin.  
“I think you’ve had enough my lady,” growled Lord Tywin in a tone of icy steel.  
As calmly as she could, she dabbed at her own lips and set the napkin down over her plate.  
“If you are referring to a ‘lord’s courtesy,’ yes, I’ve had my fill of that for the evening. Excuse me,” she said disdainfully, rising.  
Ser Kevan and Lord Hugh alone rose when she did. The other lords cast sidelong, embarrassed looks at each other but remained seated.  
Lady Ailyn plucked an apple from the table, turned on her heel and strode out of the tent. One of the guards turned to stop her.  
“Take me to my horse ser,” she demanded.  
The knight looked back into the tent for direction. After a second, he quickly turned to her.  
“Of course, my lady; follow me,” he offered, and began to walk in the direction of the stables.  
Lady Ailyn barely saw her surroundings. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she blinked back tears. She had been so diligent about keeping herself under control. Mentioning her Darren like that was low even for him. Just when she finally thought she had closed the hole in her chest her husband had left behind when he died, Lord Tywin tore it open again. She wiped her eyes when she thought no one was looking and took in large, silent gulps of air.  
They reached a crudely fenced in area with several horses in it but Lady Ailyn’s white mare was not among them.   
“Where is my horse?” she demanded of the stable boy who was on duty.  
“My lady! Er… I moved your mare to her own pen. She’s over here,” said the boy nervously leading her over to another paddock around a row of tents.  
Her mare whickered and tossed her mane when Lady Ailyn went up to the fence. She trotted over and butted her head affectionately against Ailyn’s torso. Feeling a little better, Lady Ailyn gave her horse the apple she had taken from Lord Tywin’s table. The mare snuffled wetly as she munched the apple.  
“Why did you have to move her?” asked Lady Ailyn after a minute, running her fingers through her horse’s long silver mane.  
“Oh…er I thought she should have her own space…” fumbled the boy, not meeting her gaze.  
She looked at him and waited for the real explanation.  
The boy cleared his throat, looked around as if afraid he would be overheard, and then said quietly, “Lord Tywin’s destrier kept trying to mount her.”  
She looked away from him politely.  
“They are animals after all. Thank you for moving her,” she offered quietly, scratching her mare’s jowl.  
The stable boy bowed to her and left.  
She glanced after him and noticed the two guards who had brought her here were still behind her, waiting silently.  
She ignored them and continued to stroke her mare’s long face.  
“You didn’t yield, did you Raena? Neither will I,” whispered Lady Ailyn to her mare.  
Raena bobbed her head in approval and then with a farewell whinny, she trotted back over to the pile of hay at the other side of the fence.  
Ailyn watched her absently for a while, composing herself for her return. Her resolved shifted back into place and she picked her head up. She was the Hawk’s daughter, born to rise above.  
She turned to the guards and announced her desire to return to her tent. They nodded respectfully and escorted her back.  
Upon nearing the entrance to the tent, she could hear Ser Kevan and Lord Tywin arguing.  
One of the guards stepped inside and announced her return. Lady Ailyn composed herself and fixed an apologetic expression on her face. The quarrel stopped and she swept past the guard to confront Lord Tywin. Ser Kevan’s brown eyes were kind but anger radiated from Lord Tywin. The lion started to snarl at her but she raised an entreating hand and asked to speak.  
Lord Tywin nodded warily.  
“I ask that you forgive my behavior this evening my lord. It was rude and unladylike. I will endeavor to be more agreeable in the future,” she said softly, meeting his glare, and then dropping her eyes demurely to the ground.  
This seemed to ameliorate his anger but his scowl remained.  
“I will continue to treat you as a guest and not as a prisoner so long as your conduct warrants it my lady. Since it is your first day here, I will grant you some leniency but you would do well not to show your temper to me again,” warned Tywin Lannister, his tone cold with disapproval.  
“You have my word, Lord Tywin. If you’ll excuse me, I should like to retire for the evening,” assured Lady Ailyn bending into a graceful curtsey to both Lannisters.  
Lord Tywin nodded to her and waved a hand dismissively, turning back to Ser Kevan.  
“We are expecting a fresh contingent to arrive in a few days,” she heard Ser Kevan say as she closed the opening to her chamber.  
She picked up the book she had been reading before dinner and smiled triumphantly into its pages, confident that she had the upper hand. Her mother had taught her that the most valuable weapon a lady can have is her ability ‘to seem.’ Ailyn had taken that lesson to heart, especially after her mother had died and she was forced to keep a pleasant demeanor for her father’s sake.   
After almost twenty years of being asked to give her opinion on all things, suddenly, her silence was all that was desired. She was going to have to learn Lord Tywin’s methods of attack if she wanted to be able to resist rising to his provocations. Her life and the lives of others depended on her ability to seem subservient and harmless.


	3. A Change if Tactics

A Change of Tactics

After a week of living in a soldier’s camp, Lady Ailyn decided she would never volunteer for this sort of thing again. True, Lord Tywin was not at war with her family, which was what she dreaded most, but she was starting to have a bad feeling that this temporary deal was not going to end well for someone. She was becoming anxious.  
She’d finished both of the books she had brought with her and was not allowed to practice with a bow. Such a thing was ‘unseemly’ for a woman, according to Lord Tywin. But he had lent her several more books to keep her quiet. She dined with his lords only a few more times otherwise, she ate alone in her room. Someone took care of her washing and emptied her chamber pot; brought her new candles and added fuel to the small black stove in the corner. She was usually allowed to walk around the perimeter of the camp under escort everyday to get away from the tent for a time. Lord Hugh even accompanied her once and seemed to enjoy her conversation.   
As much as Lady Ailyn disliked Lord Tywin, she was developing an unforeseen intimacy with him just by living next to him. His squire only helped him on and off with his armor; Lord Tywin changed his clothing himself. He occasionally snored which didn’t surprise her. He was the sort to growl in his sleep as well as awake. Last night, something had woken her up in the small hours of the morning and as she was dozing off she’d heard him whisper “No!” followed by a gasp and the sharp wrench of bedding as from someone just awakening from a nightmare. She listened to him catch his breath, get up and wash his face before going back to sleep. She wondered what he dreamed about; what sort of things would scare a man like Lord Tywin. She didn’t have the courage to ask him.   
Lady Ailyn was just finishing the long braid in her hair when she heard a hesitant voice outside her chamber say: “My lady?”  
She went to the curtain. Lord Tywin’s cupbearer was standing there looking slightly nervous.  
“If you please my lady, Lord Tywin requests your presence at council,” he said, barely making eye contact with her.  
“At council?” she frowned in surprise. She had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. Tywin Lannister had always made his thoughts on women and warfare perfectly clear: they did not mix.  
She followed the cup bearer to the council tent and stepped inside. All the lords were seated, with Tywin and Ser Kevan at either head. There was one empty chair beside Ser Kevan.  
“Lady Ailyn, my lords,” announced the cup bearer before moving off to a side table.   
She went to stand near Lord Tywin.  
“You sent for me my lord?” she asked, her gaze flitting between Lord Tywin and his brother.  
“Yes,” was the short reply.  
“Do you wish me to sit?” she asked, confused.  
“No, I wish you to pour the wine and be silent,” ordered Lord Tywin, gauging her reaction.  
Lady Ailyn drew a long breath silently through her nose. He wants a reaction; something to remind him that you are a weak willed and hot headed, she told herself as she watched his pale green eyes study her. Your pride is not worth starting a war. He will not have the satisfaction, she resolved.  
She curtseyed to him and went over to the stunned cup bearer and gently took the flagon from his fingers.  
“We are going to need some more,” she urged quietly. He nodded to her and his lord then hurried out.   
Once the flagon was in her hands she fleetingly toyed with the idea of dumping out the wine on the ground but thought better of it.  
She turned and went back to Lord Tywin. All the lords were watching her intensely, no one moved or spoke. She picked up Lord Tywin’s cup, filled it, and gently set it back down on its golden plate. She kept her face blank, her movements measured and respectful. When she had filled several more, Lord Tywin began to speak.  
“Now, the scouts tell us that the Stark host is well north of us as yet but there are unconfirmed reports of a splinter force being sent out in this direction as an advance. This area is a poor place for a battle. There is some flat land farther out and we may be able to use the forest between us as to our advantage,” plotted Lord Tywin, outlining his plan with his forefinger along the large map spread across the table.  
Several more suggestions were made while she finished filling their cups, frowning.  
Once she was done, she stood off to Lord Tywin’s left, still studying his map. She was now more than certain that there was something wrong. She knew the area around her home like the back of her hand; that forest was a swamp now. She could just as easily hold her tongue as she was supposed to and let them run into the swampy marsh they were heading for. It would serve him right. She sighed inwardly. What was it about this man that made her always want to act like a petulant child?  
She waited until there was a pause in the arguing and then murmured quietly,  
“Pardon me, my lord. May I speak?”  
Lord Tywin turned his head slightly in her direction.  
“I’d rather you didn’t my lady,” was his gruff reply.  
“It will be to your advantage my lord,” she prompted politely, trying to bait him.  
Lord Tywin met her gaze. The concern apparent in her eyes persuaded him more than her words. He gestured for her to continue.  
“I merely wished to say that your map is not entirely accurate,” said Lady Ailyn quietly.  
There were murmurs of surprise and contention all around the table which Lord Tywin silenced with a wave of his hand.  
“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyes becoming more intense.  
“The forest which you are planning on marching through in hopes of concealing your numbers does not exist. It burned last year in the drought. Then there was a period of heavy rain directly after which turned that area into a swampy marsh. It would be folly to march through it,” she cautioned.  
“How would you know?” asked Amory Lorch, who’d taken Lord Tywin’s mistrust of Lady Ailyn to heart.  
“It was required of me to be aware of the changes in my homeland. I know this area very well Ser Amory,” she informed him, without malice.  
“Send scouts if you don’t believe me my lord,” she insisted, trying to read Tywin Lannister’s blank face.  
“Why should you be offering advice to our advantage? Surely your father taught you not give help to your enemies?” asked Lord Tywin, his tone mildly derogatory.  
“It is in my best interest to get you away from my home as quickly as possible. I do not wish you to return here and regroup. And I do not think of you as my enemy,” she finished, moving forward and deftly refilling Tywin’s cup.  
His pale eyes grew wide and what passed for a smirk tugged at the corner of Tywin’s mouth.  
“You don’t?” he asked, his tone grating on her.  
“You have not declared war on my family nor broken the truce with my father. Therefore, we are not enemies; we simply have an uneasy peace,” she reasoned.  
“That is very generous of you my lady, if a little naïve,” said Tywin Lannister, turning away from her dismissively.  
“Lorch, send two of your best scouts to this area. I want the truth,” ordered Lord Tywin, ignoring the burning glare from his left.  
“Yes my lord,” said Ser Amory, rising to do his lord’s bidding.  
Lord Tywin took a long drink of wine and then added as an after thought to Lady Ailyn: “Our relative position to Willow Glen does not affect you, at any rate.”  
She frowned.  
“What do you mean?” Lady Ailyn tried to keep her voice from wavering with fear.  
Tywin Lannister turned to look her full in the face and said deliberately: “When we leave here, you are coming with us.”  
Ailyn’s stomach clenched and she forced herself to keep breathing normally.  
“That was not part of the agreement. My father will not…” she began but Lord Tywin but her off.  
“Lord Silvyn has already given his consent. There is nothing further to discuss,” finished Lord Tywin, looking away from her again.   
“You can’t…” she began again, her voice higher but he silenced her with an icy glare.  
All at once, her corset felt too tight; she couldn’t catch her breath. Images of her family started to flash before her eyes. Lady Ailyn gave herself a mental shake: this was not the place to break down. Not here. She walked back up to the table and placed the flagon of wine down in front of Lord Tywin. Without so much as a glance at him, she swept out and hurried back to her tent.   
Tears stung her eyes as she stalked into her tent and made for her room. She collapsed on her bed and tried to catch her breath. She had hoped so fervently that it would not come to this. Of course her father would agree to Lord Tywin’s demands; he, Lord Silvyn, had her assurance everyday that Lord Tywin, while not always civil, was nevertheless treating her decently. All the same, she felt betrayed. She couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that if she lost sight of Willow Glen, she would never see it again. Her little brother Marden was already upset at her not being there to tell him a story before his bedtime. Ailyn missed the scent of lavender and heather, which grew in patches outside her chambers. Gently trickling water in her small garden of willows; the secret clearing of flowers and sunlight she used to share with her husband before he died; her maid, Gana, who’d been by her side for the last ten years.   
She closed her eyes against her tears and forced herself to breath normally. After a few minutes and a quick bout of hiccups, she felt better, if a little light headed. Lady Ailyn wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stood up. Lord Tywin had not yet returned; the tent was quiet. She composed herself and then went to stand in front of Lord Tywin’s desk. Back straight, hands clasped before her, she kept her gaze focused on the chair directly ahead of her and stood motionless.  
She waited.  
And waited.  
Finally, she heard Lord Tywin and Ser Kevan just outside the tent. Their voices were too low for her to make out the words but it sounded like they were disagreeing about something. They finished their conversation and she was aware of Lord Tywin stepping into the tent in her periphery. She did not turn her head or speak. She waited for him to react to her. Lady Ailyn heard him pause and felt his gaze on her. Silently, Lord Tywin walked around the other side of his desk and stood before her, the table between them.  
His black leather clothing and the swath of rich fabric draped over his shoulder stood out in stark relief against the bloody red of his tent. Lady Ailyn raised her eyes and coolly met his stare.   
“What are your intentions my lord?” she asked, not dropping her eyes.  
“I intend to keep you with me as insurance against any steps your father may take after I’m no longer sitting on his doorstep,” replied Lord Tywin.  
“That was not part of the bargain,” she argued again.   
“I am only taking you at your father’s word my lady,” said Lord Tywin silkily.  
“What words?” she demanded, frowning.  
“ ‘When the fighting is done’ ” answered Tywin Lannister smoothly. “And the fighting is far from done Lady Ailyn.”  
“He meant…” she started but the lion interrupted her.  
“He should choose his words more carefully.”  
There was a tense silence.  
“When did you tell my father you were kidnapping me?” she asked, angrily.  
A golden eyebrow rose in indignation.  
“It’s hardly kidnapping when you walked into my camp,” countered the Lord of Lannister. “Yesterday, in one raven.”  
“How long am I to remain with you?” she ground out through clenched teeth.  
“Once the Iron Throne is secure and my grandson securely seated on it, I will consider releasing you,” answered Lord Tywin, his hands gripping the back of the chair in front of him. “If you wish for some more definite answer, I would hazard several months.”  
“Months?” she breathed. The word reverberated in her ears like a Sept’s death knell.  
She felt her resolve crack a little.  
“I was unaware my lord enjoyed my company so much,” she said sarcastically, allowing a smile to pull at the corner of her mouth, anything to deflect her feelings.  
Tywin Lannister’s demeanor hardened.  
“The prospect does not please me either. You should retire for the night my lady, you look tired,” offered Lord Tywin dismissively.  
And you look like something that crawled out of the deepest of the seven hells, was on her tongue but she bent stiffly and marched back to her room, closing the curtain. She stood there just breathing, thinking. Her fingers itched to pull a dagger from her boot and attack him. She would savor the surprised look on his face…until his men opened her throat. Lady Ailyn sighed deeply, shoulders slumping as she bowed her head. She had wanted to believe that she wasn’t a pawn; that she mattered more than just some piece to be moved silently around a board. She could hear the lion grinning at her behind her back.


	4. A Threat and a Promise

The morning after the news of her extended stay, Lady Ailyn woke with an aching back. She rolled over and lay flat for a moment to ease the twinge. She missed her bed, the smell of lavender in the morning and half a hundred other things. She closed her eyes and took a long breath. She had no one to depend on but herself and thoughts like these would only make her weaker. She had knowingly stepped onto the playing field and now she had to face the consequences.  
The dull rumble of the Lannister brothers’ discussion outside her room rolled over her but they were not talking loudly enough to be comprehensible. She wiggled out of bed and stretched, the ache nestling itself in her lower back. Lady Ailyn shrugged out of her bedrobe and pulled on her under dress. She wasn’t sure if it was the fabric or her body which felt dirty. Ailyn quickly splashed water on her face and rubbed her underarms with a damp cloth. She then slipped her corset over her head and pulled it tightly closed. Finally, she elected to wear her deep brown dress with an elegant vine and flower pattern flowing up her left side. It hid the dirt better than the others she’d brought with her. She quickly brushed out and re-braided her long brown hair and then stepped out to speak to Lord Tywin.  
Both Lannisters stopped speaking when she entered the room. Lord Tywin was seated at his desk, maps and letters spread before him while Ser Kevan stood faithfully by his side. Tywin stood when she entered and when she came to stand in front of them, they bowed their greetings.  
She curtseyed elegantly and then said quietly, “I have a request to make my lord.”  
“And what might that be?” asked Lord Tywin, not unkindly.  
“Since I am to stay with you for longer than I anticipated, I would like to send for a trunk. I did not pack for more than a few weeks,” she entreated.  
Lord Tywin seemed to consider this for a moment and then replied, “Very well.”  
He pulled out the chair next to him and motioned for her to sit.  
“You may write to Lord Silvyn and request whatever you think you will require so long as it fits in one trunk. It will be delivered this afternoon. We are leaving the day after tomorrow,” said Tywin, placing a strip of parchment before her as she sat down. He handed her his quill and opened an ink bottle.  
“Thank you my lord,” she nodded to him and bent to write.   
He regarded her for a moment and then turned back to Ser Kevan.  
“Have Lorch’s men returned yet?” asked Tywin, pulling a map closer to him as he sat down.   
“No my lord. They should come here with a report when they do,” answered Kevan.  
“If that way is blocked, surely we could simply go around it and swing toward River’s Bend?” suggested Ser Kevan, tracing a finger along the path he outlined.  
“We would have to go over Barton Peak. Our whole army would be visible for several miles. No, we shall have to go out of our way to Miller’s Den before turning toward Harenhal,” decided Tywin Lannister, tapping the map with a forefinger.  
Meanwhile, Ailyn had written several lines to her father asking Gana to pack her a trunk for as many days as she could. She wouldn’t have to tell Gana what to include; she would know.  
She cringed inwardly as Lord Tywin mentioned Harrenhal as their next destination. She’d never been there but had heard plenty of dismal stories from men in her father’s army.  
She was about to pass her note to Lord Tywin for approval when two soldiers walked purposefully into the tent and knelt before Lord Tywin. One was covered in drying mud.  
“If you please my lord, we bring word of the terrain,” said the mud covered one.  
“Rise and report,” commanded the Lord of Casterly Rock.  
“We rode two miles north of here without seeing the forest from the maps. There is a treacherous marsh directly in our path if you wish to march north,” announced the muddy one.  
Lord Tywin said nothing but Lady Ailyn felt a sidelong glance from his direction.  
“The mud was so thick and deep I nearly lost my horse. Very few, if any, of the carts would make it through my lord,” summarized the man, lowering his gaze.  
Lady Ailyn did not turn to face Lord Tywin and kept her face carefully blank. Secretly, she gloated.  
“So be it.”  
The men took this to be a dismissal. They quickly bowed and left.  
After a short pause, Lord Tywin turned his head.  
“It appears you were correct my lady,” he conceded.  
She remained blank and gently slid her letter toward him.  
“I am pleased something positive came from the meeting last evening,” she said diplomatically, rising.  
Lord Tywin rose with her.  
“Is the letter deliverable?” asked Lady Ailyn moving around the other side of the desk.  
He picked it up, his green eyes flashing over her words.  
“There are no instructions…” he began, looking up at her.  
“I do not need to give any. My servants know me well,” she answered simply.  
“Hmm. Kevan will come for you when it’s time to collect your trunk,” he informed her, rolling up her letter for a raven.  
She curtseyed and went back to her room, smiling.

* * * * * 

“My lady? It’s time,” called Ser Kevan from outside her room.  
“Finally,” murmured Ailyn under her breath. She rose and collected her cloak, sweeping out to join Ser Kevan.  
“Lord Tywin will ride with you and several other men half way to Willow Glen’s gates. We’ll wait for your men to deliver your trunk,” Ser Kevan informed her, helping her with her cloak.  
“Who is meeting us?” she asked. She knew her father would never come out; the situation was too dangerous for that. But who would he send in his stead?  
“Lord Silvyn did not elaborate on that point I’m afraid,” replied Kevan leading her to her horse.  
Outside, the camp was bustling with movement. At least one hundred men were mounted and armored, waiting. She didn’t like the look of it. A Lannister guard walked over to them, leading Raena who looked skittish. She took the reins and rubbed the mare’s velvety nose. With a little help from Ser Kevan, Lady Ailyn got up onto her horse and seated herself like a man. Today was not the day for ladylike side saddle.  
“Thank you Ser Kevan,” she smiled down at him.  
“Are you ready my lady?” asked Lord Tywin riding up beside her on his black destrier. He was in full armor as well, his helmet open so she could see most of his face.  
“Yes my lord,” she assured him.  
“Come then. Mind what you say; I’ll be next to you,” warned Lord Tywin, urging his horse forward.  
“Yes my lord, I know when to tell the truth and when it is better to lie,” she retorted, nudging Raena gently.  
They plodded down the aisle of tents then up a small incline and over so the city of Willow Glen was directly in front of them. Lady Ailyn glanced behind her. Five men were following them: three on horseback and two on foot. The hundred mounted men stayed below the incline just out of view.  
“Surely there will not be a need for all those men,” she said quietly, trying to keep the worry from her voice.  
“For your family’s sake, I hope you are right. I believe in being prepared,” answered Lord Tywin, checking his horse again. His destrier kept trying to cut off Ailyn’s mare; he was constantly bobbing his head in her direction.  
“Stop,” ordered Lord Tywin after they had gone the requisite distance. Lady Ailyn reined in her horse. Her city’s gates remained closed. They waited.  
Finally, the large wooden gate swung in and several mounted soldiers trotted into view followed by a cart. All of the men were in full armor but one: the leader rode without a helmet, his fiery red hair blowing in the wind. Ailyn recognized him at once.  
“It’s my Uncle, Ser Garrick,” she replied. “If you please my lord, my uncle is a little…rough spoken.”  
Lord Tywin’s destrier snorted and pawed the ground impatiently.  
“Then he had best be brief,” muttered Tywin into the side of his helmet.  
Lady Ailyn smiled warmly as her uncle, four mounted soldiers and another pulling a cart rode up.   
“Gods Ailyn, it is good to see you,” cried her uncle, pulling his brown horse up several feet away from her and Lord Tywin.  
“And you uncle,” she replied.  
He ignored Lord Tywin.  
“How are you being treated?” demanded Ser Garrick without any preamble.  
Lady Ailyn opened her mouth to answer but she heard Lord Tywin snap, “She’s perfectly well.”  
Now Ser Garrick looked directly at Lord Tywin.  
“I was speaking to my niece Lannister,” he growled, the surname coming out like a curse.  
Before Lord Tywin could reply, Lady Ailyn interjected, “Please, uncle. Other than a little civility, I’ve wanted for nothing. Lord Tywin has kept his word.”  
Ser Garrick remained unconvinced.  
“Our scouts are telling us that you are sharing Lord Tywin’s tent,” continued Ser Garrick, shooting him an ugly look.  
Lord Tywin made a growling noise and rested his hand on his sword hilt. Her uncle did the same.  
“Your scouts are speaking the truth; we are sharing a tent, not a bed. I have my own space, I assure you. Please, Ser Garrick, now is not the time for belligerence. More than your life is at risk here,” urged Lady Ailyn, not liking where this conversation was heading.  
Ser Garrick continued to glare at Lord Tywin who returned it with a blaze of his own. A tense moment passed then Ser Garrick’s eyes flashed back over to his niece as the weight behind her words sunk in. Reluctantly, he took his hand from his sword.  
“Forgive me, Ailyn. I dislike these arrangements,” said Ser Garrick, looking slightly abashed.  
“I think we all share your sentiment,” she said, with a rueful smile.  
“Where is Lady Ailyn’s trunk? I have business to attend to,” snapped Lord Tywin impatiently. His destrier snorted and tossed his head wildly.  
Ser Garrick held Lord Tywin’s angry stare and then motioned behind him for the trunk to be brought forward. The two men on foot moved quickly to obey and soon placed Lady Ailyn’s trunk near her. Lord Tywin motioned his own men forward to collect it.  
“Gana, your maid, is demanding to be sent with you my lady,” Ser Garrick informed her as the Lannister guards marched back to camp with her trunk.  
Lady Ailyn looked sideways at Lord Tywin as if for permission and then before he could speak, she shook her head.  
“No uncle. I cannot vouch for her safety now. Once we reach King’s Landing and it is stable, I will send for her. Please keep an eye on her for the next few days so she doesn’t try to follow us,” replied Lady Ailyn. Gana was every bit as stubborn as she was. “As you wish, Ailyn. Lord Silvyn sends his regards,” said Ser Garrick, wanting to say more but a glance at Lord Tywin silenced his tongue.  
“Give him and Mardyn my love. I will remember what he has taught me. I will not disappoint him,” she vowed, an edge in her tone.  
“You never have,” smiled her uncle.  
Her answering smiled faltered a little at Lord Tywin’s noise of disbelief.  
“Will that be all then?” asked the Lord of Lannister, starting to turn his horse around.  
“Wait. This is for you, Ailyn” interrupted Ser Garrick, holding out a small packet of cloth to one of his men.  
The soldier handed it up to Lady Ailyn with Lord Tywin looking on.  
She unwrapped it carefully. Inside were several sprigs of lavender and heather. Her throat constricted as she drank in the familiar scent.   
“Thank you uncle,” she said when she was able.  
“I have something for you as well Lord Tywin,” announced Ser Garrick, his tone suddenly cold.  
Tywin Lannister narrowed his green eyes.  
“You had best keep your oath to protect my niece, Lannister, or I swear by the Seven, I’ll come for your head,” growled Ser Garrick.  
“I don’t have time for idle threats,” muttered Lord Tywin, waving his men off.  
“It’s not a threat Lannister; it’s a promise,” stated Ser Garrick, gesturing to his own men.  
“Good day to you,” snarled Lord Tywin, jerking his horse around.  
Lady Ailyn looked from one man to the other and, with one last smile at her uncle, she pulled Raena around and rode back into the Lannister camp along side Lord Tywin. Her mare kept shying away from Lord Tywin’s horse so she spoke loudly to make herself heard.  
“Please forgive my uncle my lord; diplomacy is unfamiliar to him,” she said carefully, trying to read his face.  
“Apparently so is common sense. I do not suffer threats idly,” he growled not looking at her.  
She had no idea what else to say to placate him. What had her father been thinking sending him out to speak to the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms and his daughter’s captor?   
They had reached the long avenue back up to their shared tent when suddenly Lord Tywin’s destrier neighed loudly and reared up, kicking out with his front hooves. Shock then fury flashed across Tywin’s face as he jerked down sharply on the reins. Ailyn moved her horse farther away, turning her head to keep an eye on the unruly horse. It reared again, and this time Ailyn had to duck her head to keep from getting kicked. Raena had had enough and bolted down the lane.  
“Raena stop!” she cried, trying desperately to slow her down. The tent was coming up fast. Lord Hugh and several other Lannister men ran in front of her and held out their hands to calm her horse. Reluctantly, and still dancing about nervously, Raena came to halt just outside the tent. She tossed the reins to the guards and took Lord Hugh’s outstretched hand to get down. He clasped her arm gently and stayed near her while she rubbed Raena’s neck, concern radiating from his blue eyes.  
“She’s never done that before,” Lady Ailyn said quietly.  
“Are you sure you’re alright?” asked Lord Hugh as two Lannister soldiers lead her horse back to her pen.  
“Yes, I’m not hurt. What…” she began but a wild, animal scream from behind her cut through her words.  
She started to turn around to see what had made that sound but Lord Hugh tightened his grip on her arm slightly and turned her back to face him.  
“No my lady. Don’t look,” he cautioned, staring past her.  
Another scream ripped through the air and then heavy ‘thud’ as something large fell to the ground.  
Lady Ailyn’s eyes went wide.  
“Is that Lord Tywin’s horse?” she gasped, now thankful she hadn’t been allowed to turn around.  
“No more, I’m afraid,” said Lord Hugh grimly.  
A Lannister guard came out of the tent behind Lord Hugh and informed her that her trunk had been placed in her room.  
She nodded her thanks, her stomach going queasy at the thought of what was going on behind her.  
“We’d best step aside,” murmured Lord Hugh quietly, ushering her off to the right.   
Now she turned to see what had happened. Lord Tywin was striding towards them, his helmet was missing and his sword was drawn, bloody almost to the hilt. His cheekbones were nearly poking out of his face, he was clenching his jaw so hard. The look in his eyes chilled her. She looked around him and saw his black horse lying motionless on the ground, blood spurting from a gash in his throat.  
The Lord of Casterly Rock stalked past them without a glance and went into the tent.  
“I would stay out of his way for the next few hours my lady,” suggested Lord Hugh, watching Lord Tywin’s back as he walked into the tent.  
She nodded mutely and then followed him inside. Lord Tywin had gone to his room and she went quickly to hers and let down the flaps. She tried to go about searching through her trunk quietly as Lord Tywin noisily removed his armor. She heard the rustle of clothing as he dressed himself and then strode out.  
She let out a sigh of relief and then when she was sure she was alone in the tent, she checked the secret side compartments of her trunk. Inside were several maps, two large pouches of gold, another dagger and two scrolls of parchment and ink. She smiled. No matter how far away they dragged her, she had the means to communicate or get herself home if needs be. She quickly closed the compartments; sure in the knowledge that even if they searched the trunk, those items wouldn’t be found. There were several other dresses and fresh undergarments as well as soap and her box of medical supplies; another book on the history of the Seven Kingdoms and a sturdier pair of boots. She closed the trunk and curled up on her bed with the book and the sprigs of lavender her uncle had given her. After the incident with Lord Tywin’s horse, she doubted she would be disturbed for the remainder of the evening.  
Much later, Ser Kevan himself brought her a plate of dinner and a small flagon of wine.  
“I am relieved you were unharmed today my lady,” he said handing her the plate.  
“Sadly, the same cannot be said for Lord Tywin’s horse,” she replied, setting the plate down on a small table and pouring herself a glass of wine.  
“Tywin does not like to be made a fool of. He suffers much less disobedience in people; his horse was lucky to have had a quick death,” explained Ser Kevan as she sipped her wine.  
“I will take care to remember that,” she promised.  
He nodded and said, “I would spend the day tomorrow packing your things away and preparing yourself for the long journey ahead.”  
“I shall do as you say Ser Kevan. Thank you,” Lady Ailyn said with a small smile. The anxious feeling from a few days ago was creeping back over her.  
“Good night, my lady.”  
“Good night.”


	5. A Mistake

A loud horn blast woke Lady Ailyn in the midst of a heavy sleep. She groaned and rolled over. They were leaving today. All at once, the camp came alive: men shouting, horses’ hooves pounding the dirt past her side of the tent. She rose slowly, shivering slightly in the sharp morning air. She silently cursed her slow, cold fingers as she tried to lace up the front of her corset. A group of men entered the outer room of the tent arguing about something. Ailyn paused and stepped a little closer to her screen. She remembered the fierce threat Lord Tywin had given to his men when she moved into his tent. There was little to fear but all the same, years of good breeding got in the way of her common sense. Ailyn waited until they were gone and then pulled her blue dress over her head. Her leather belt came next and as she cinched it around her narrow waist, her fingers flicked over the empty dagger scabbards. Lady Ailyn was still annoyed about Lord Tywin’s confiscation of her weapons but she understood why he had done it. After pulling her leather boots on, she took a deep breath to steady herself and stepped out into the main chamber at the front of the tent. It was strangely empty and silent. As Ailyn listened, she noticed the noise outside had died down as well. Frowning, the Lady swept out and thrust aside the tent flaps. Ten Lannister guards turned to halt her progress.  
“If you please my lady, Lord Tywin requested that you stay in the tent,” said a man she recognized as one of the captains.  
“Where is everyone?” she asked, not moving.  
“Scouts came in early this morning with news that a Stark contingent was trying to catch us by surprise. Lord Tywin rode out to meet them,” explained the captain.  
“And he left only you to guard me?” she tried to keep the anger out of her voice.  
“They will not make it this far my lady. You have nothing to fear,” he reassured her.  
She nodded but remained anxious and annoyed. If something happened to her, her father would attack Lord Tywin without waiting for an explanation. The Lord of Casterly Rock was not a careless man but he was not here to argue with. She turned on her heel and went back into the tent. She paused outside Lord Tywin’s chamber weighing her choices and their consequences. After a moment, she stepped resolutely into his room to retrieve her bow and daggers. She found her bow in a corner and slung it over her shoulder, arranging her quiver to be easily accessible. Her daggers took another moment or so but she soon recovered them and slipped them into her belt, feeling less naked and vulnerable. Her lord father had always felt she should be able to protect herself and she wasn’t about to stop taking his advice now. This entailed disobeying Lord Tywin however, and with that uneasy thought, she sat down to listen and wait.

 

* * * * *

 

“Where are the rest of them?” growled Lord Tywin, opening the visor in his helm.  
Beside him, Ser Kevan opened his own.  
“It looks like only two thousand or less,” agreed his brother, watching the pitched battle at the foot of their hill.  
Lord Tywin twisted around in his saddle and glanced back at the camp. His eyes sharpened.  
“There’s a fire in the camp! This battle is a diversion” he exclaimed, wheeling his horse around. The burning tent was near his and he doubted his own men would be so careless.   
“Lorch! I’m leaving you in charge. Finish them off. No prisoners!” barked Lord Tywin, digging his heels into his new white stallion. Ser Kevan turned his own horse and together the Lannister brothers raced back to camp with a small battalion of men. They thundered down the hill and threaded their way through the camp, heading toward Lord Tywin’s tent.  
As they drew nearer, he could make out a tangled pile of bodies at the entrance of his tent. Lord Tywin reined in his horse and raised his fist for the men behind him to halt. All of his Lannister guards were dead and in between their corpses were the bodies of men dressed all in black.  
Tywin Lannister turned in his saddle.  
“You two,” he barked, gesturing with two fingers, “put out that fire. Half of you start searching the camp. Kill anyone who isn’t one of us. The rest of you wait here for my command,” ordered Lord Tywin dismounting and drawing his sword.   
As he stepped over the bodies of his fallen men, he cast a glance at those they had been fighting. They were all in black and looked as though they’d rolled in the mud. He’d never seen or heard of any clan like them.   
Lord Tywin burst into his tent and shouted for Lady Ailyn. Silence greeted him as he stepped around more bodies. These men had arrows with blue feathers sticking out of them. There were papers scattered on the ground and his desk had been tipped on its side. Gritting his teeth, Lord Tywin pushed aside the tent flap to Lady Ailyn’s room but she was not there. Nothing had been disturbed. He moved over to his own room which was also empty and untouched.  
“Is she here?” called Ser Kevan from the tent entrance.  
“No! She must have run or been taken elsewhere,” barked Tywin striding back toward his brother.  
Ser Kevan glanced down at the fallen men.  
“Aren’t those Lady Ailyn’s arrows?” asked Kevan, gesturing with his sword tip at one of the corpses on the ground, an arrow protruding from his neck.   
Tywin Lannister paused and glanced down.  
“She must have taken them back to defend herself,” murmured Kevan. However irked Tywin was at her disobedience, he could not fault her marksmanship; there were four men dead each with an arrow to the throat.  
“We have to find her,” growled Tywin stepping outside the tent.   
Hesitantly, one of Lord Tywin’s guards came up to him and bowed.  
“If you please milord, perhaps she went into the woods,” he suggested, pointing to a trail of several sprawled bodies leading out to a small forest off to the left of the camp.  
“All of you, into the woods and spread out,” ordered Lord Tywin heading swiftly for the trees.  
“We’ll find her Tywin,” reassured Kevan as they passed through the tree line.  
“We need to find her alive,” replied his brother grimly.  
They stepped over another dead man and headed in the general direction of a line of broken branches.  
“It looks like they were attacked by the Night’s Watch,” said Ser Kevan, confused.  
“I don’t know who they are but they will not cost me this war,” snarled Lord Tywin thrusting aside some branches.  
Lord Tywin raised his fist for a halt and bellowed for Lady Ailyn.  
There was a tense silence, and then, very faintly off to his right: “Here!”  
Only Ser Kevan was close enough to hear Tywin’s short sigh of relief before they moved off in her direction.  
They passed two more men downed by blue feathered arrows before Lord Tywin spotted her, leaning against a tree, with an arrow nocked but pointed at the ground. His relief faded when he noticed her grey pallor and the large splash of blood covering the right side of her chest. Tywin sheathed his sword and took off his helmet, dropping it near her feet as she let her bow fall and gingerly slipped off her quiver.  
“Form a perimeter around this spot. Face out, eyes sharp,” commanded Tywin to his men.  
“My lady,” he began hesitantly, eyeing the stain on her dress but she feebly waved her hand.  
“This isn’t mine,” said Lady Ailyn weakly, gesturing to her torso. “My leg,” she gasped, clutching her dress by her left leg as a pained expression crossed her face.  
Tywin’s eyes fell to a large slash in her skirt just above the knee, the blue cloth purpling with blood.  
He stepped up close to her and slipped an arm between her and the tree pulling her gently against him. She looked up at him, surprised. For one wild moment, Lady Ailyn thought Lord Tywin was going to kiss her but he merely moved her over to a fallen log.   
“Sit down,” he said gently, lowering her slowly so she could sit. He could feel her shaking under his hands. She bit her lip and looked off to the side, hoping her disheveled hair would hide her face. Ailyn was afraid she was going to start laughing – or go into hysterics. Despite the sudden gentleness in his tone, she strongly suspected that if she lost control he would probably slap her.  
Tywin strode over to the nearest guard and said, “I want Maester Doran in my tent when we return. Go!” The guard nodded and rushed off to obey. Tywin went over to another guard, drawing a dagger.  
“Hold still,” he said authoritatively as he cut a long strip of fabric from the man’s cloak. Lord Tywin sheathed his dagger and went back over to Lady Ailyn, who was holding herself upright with an effort.  
“We shouldn’t stay here long, my lord. I am not sure these woods are safe,” said Ser Kevan walking alongside Tywin.  
“We’ll leave in a moment,” he agreed.  
Lord Tywin went stiffly down on one knee still holding the length of red fabric.   
“Raise your skirt so I can bind your wound my lady,” he requested.  
Lady Ailyn’s eyes widened in surprise and then hardened distrustfully.  
Ser Kevan glanced from her to his brother and then respectfully turned his back on them.  
She met his gaze for a moment, then, slowly pulled her dress up over her knee to mid thigh, just above her wound. Ailyn looked away before she saw the cut itself. She could feel the warm liquid running down her leg into her boot and dripping onto the ground.  
Lord Tywin leaned forward and began wrapping the fabric around her leg. Despite the pain, Lady Ailyn could feel a flush creeping up her cheeks as his gloved hands touched her. She tried to keep silent despite the pain and hid behind the curtain of her messy hair.  
“Who were these men? Do you know?” asked Tywin quietly.  
“Mud men. They are one of the wild tribes that make camp near here. They believe they are the rightful owners of Willow Glen and have been trying to kill my family for years. We haven’t heard or seen of them in at least 5 years else I would have warned you about them. Their attacks aren’t usually this intelligent,” Lady Ailyn explained through clenched teeth.  
“Your oversight nearly got you killed. Is there anything else about this area you wish to tell me?” said Lord Tywin harshly.  
In spite of her embarrassment and pain, Lady Ailyn’s head snapped forward and she met his eyes with a glare of her own.  
“You went off to fight a battle within a mile of camp and left me behind with ten men,” she hissed. “How much is my life worth to you?”  
The Lord of Lannister narrowed his eyes and replied by pulling the tourniquet into a tight knot over her wound.  
Her clipped scream caused Ser Kevan to turn around, reproof on his lips. Ailyn was hunched over, her fingers clenching her dress tightly. Tywin paused to let her get her breath back and then pulled her dress back down over her leg. He rose and held out both his hands to her.  
“Up.”  
It sounded like he was addressing a disobedient dog.  
Lady Ailyn lifted her head enough to see his hands and reluctantly grasped them. She braced herself with her good leg and pushed herself to her feet with another muffled cry of pain. Ailyn swayed unsteadily on her feet and Tywin quickly shifted his hands and grasped her by the elbows to keep her from falling. Her leg was pulsing with pain.  
She wanted to shove him away as hard as she could but she knew he would only stumble back a step or two and she would probably fall.   
“Put your arm around my neck,” ordered Tywin already moving her arm up to comply.  
She jerked it back down stubbornly.  
Lord Tywin made an impatient noise and grasped her right elbow to the edge of pain.  
“You cannot walk back to camp. Either put your arm around my neck so I can lift you or I will throw you over my shoulder. Decide,” growled Tywin through gritted teeth.  
She opened her mouth to protest but the withering look on his countenance stopped the words in her throat. She took a resigned breath and then wrapped her arm around his neck. He bent awkwardly in his armor and hefted her into his arms. She bit back a shriek and pressed her face into the cool metal plating on his shoulder.  
“Back to camp, quickly and stay alert!” shouted Tywin near her ear.  
Lady Ailyn raised her head and looked behind Tywin at Ser Kevan’s troubled gaze.  
“Ser Kevan, my bow,” she entreated.  
Kevan Lannister nodded to her and picked up her bow as well as Tywin’s helmet. He fell into step with his brother as they made their way back through the trees.  
“You disobeyed me by taking your bow,” said Lord Tywin after a few minutes of trudging along in silence.  
She picked up her head and looked at his face in profile.  
“I would be dead if I hadn’t,” she reasoned.  
“You handle a bow well,” conceded Lord Tywin.  
She opened her mouth to thank him when he finished saying, “for a woman.”  
“I handle a bow well enough for a man. You’re lucky I’m disobedient and a good shot,” she whispered.  
“Did you start the fire?” asked Kevan trying to keep the conversation civil.  
“Yes, one of them saw me or else I would have hid in the camp after starting it,” she replied, straining her neck to look at him.  
Ser Kevan nodded and stepped ahead to pull aside some tree branches so Tywin could maneuver them out of the trees.  
“Did you win the battle?” she asked, as they were nearing Lord Tywin’s tent.  
“I suspect so. There weren’t as many men attacking as we were led to believe. I will have a word with the scouts later,” ground out Tywin, perspiration prickling his brow.  
Several guards held aside the fabric as Tywin passed into his tent. He lowered her back to the ground with a grunt and Ser Kevan stepped up beside her to take her arm. Lord Tywin put one hand on his desk and leaned over it slightly, catching his breath. Ser Kevan started to lead her to her room when she stopped him.  
“Wait. I should write to my father,” she said, looking to Lord Tywin for permission.  
Tywin Lannister hesitated.  
“You’ve just fought a battle on my father’s doorstep and a tent burned in your camp, my lord. We have scouts watching just as you do,” she insisted.  
“Sit down then,” snapped Lord Tywin impatiently.  
Ser Kevan helped her over to a chair behind his desk and put ink and paper before her.  
“Tell Lord Silvyn,” began Tywin but Lady Ailyn interrupted him.  
“I know what to write my lord. I’m not a fool,” she snapped waspishly.  
She took a steadying breath and tried not to feel the heat of lion of lannister’s glare.  
After a moment’s hurried scribbling, she handed the parchment to Lord Tywin for approval. He took it from her less than graciously and paused to read.  
“You lied,” he murmured, his eyes still on the page.  
“Would you rather I told the truth?” she asked, leaning over the desk slightly. The pain was becoming unbearable and there was a rushing noise in her ears.  
He gave her an appraising look and then shouted for a guard to deliver the message.  
A man came out of Lady Ailyn’s room, holding a bandage. He was dressed in simple robes of crimson which set off his jet black hair and ice blue eyes.  
“Lady Ailyn this is Maester Doran,” said Tywin, making a brief introduction. “See to it that she heals or you will answer to me.”  
“My lord,” said Maester Doran bowing.   
Ser Kevan helped Lady Ailyn rise and with the Maester’s help, they got her to her bed.  
“Thank you Ser Kevan,” said Maester Doran with a grim smile.  
“Take care of her,” cautioned Kevan before leaving.  
Doran nodded and looked down at Lady Ailyn. He went down on his knees and helped her take her boots off. Ailyn tried not to look at the small bowl of wine boiling over on the other side of the room.  
“May I see the wound please my lady?” he asked, his tone gentle.  
She raised her skirts up enough for him to see the cut in her leg and looked away again.  
“Hmm you will need stitches after I clean the wound,” he murmured, touching the skin around her cut.  
She nodded, trying hard not to whimper.  
He stood up and brought over a cloth which he placed under her leg.  
“You should look away and brace yourself, my lady. This will hurt I’m afraid,” he warned as he ladled some steaming wine into a cup.  
She took a deep breath and twisted her upper body to the side so she could grip the fur on her bed with both hands.  
Maester Doran went back over to her and gripped her calf so she couldn’t kick and without further warning, poured the hot wine onto her wound.  
She managed two wild screams before spiraling into unconsciousness.


	6. Brief Consciousness

Brief Consciousness

Lady Ailyn was seated in her garden. Soft water sounds and birdsong surrounded her as a gentle breeze blew through several tall willow trees nearby. The sweet scent of lavender and heather filled her senses. There was a brief fluttering noise nearby and Lady Ailyn turned to see a majestic hawk, the sigil of her house, land on a rock. It shrieked at her once and then began preening its feathers.  
Suddenly, a huge golden lion bounded past her with a mighty roar. She jumped to her feet in fear and as she watched, the lion caught the hawk in its jaws. There was an agonized scream followed by the crunch of bone as the hawk went limp. The lion shook it mercilessly, its shaggy mane catching the dying sunlight, then spat its corpse on the ground.  
She was too terrified to move. The lion licked its bloody jaws then turned to stare at her. Lady Ailyn’s breath caught as it started to pad toward her purposefully, growling.  
She took a step back but her heel kicked the rock she had been sitting on causing her to tumble to the ground. She lost sight of the lion as she tried to right herself and then it was almost on top of her…

Lady Ailyn cried out, snapping awake in a sweat.  
“Shhh my lady. Easy, easy. You are safe,” murmured Maester Doran, gently clasping her shoulder.  
She blinked at him as her breathing slowed.  
Just a dream…that’s all…  
She took a few large, steadying breaths before the searing pain in her leg fell on her like a crumbling castle wall.  
“What day is it?” she gasped out, noting that it was dark outside the tent.  
“Evening, the day after you were injured,” he replied pouring her a glass of water and placing it in her hand. He helped her sit up and gently dabbed at her forehead with a cool cloth as she gulped down the water.  
Besides the pain, another necessity made itself known. She winced and pointed at the chamber pot.  
The Maester immediately rose and brought it to her.  
“Can you eat something?” he asked, pulling on his cloak.  
She nodded vigorously and moved the fur off her legs.  
He nodded and swept out, leaving her alone. She was dimly aware that her soiled dress had been removed along with her corset and now was only wearing her cream colored under dress. Ailyn shook those thoughts away and concentrated on maneuvering herself into a manageable position. When she was finished, Ailyn set it down near the bed and slid back under the fur, trying not to think about how much she wanted a bath.  
Lady Ailyn heard Maester Doran pause outside her room.  
“Come,” she called, gritting her teeth against the pain.  
Doran entered with a plate of cold fowl, some bread and cheese and a small flagon of wine.  
“I’m sorry my lady, this is all I could find at short notice,” he began apologetically but she held out her hand for the plate and immediately starting eating.  
Suddenly, she stopped her hand halfway to her mouth. Her grey eyes went wide.  
“I need to send a raven. My father will…” she began, feeling a little panicky but the Maester shook his head.  
“Lord Tywin wrote to him today with some excuse. You can write tomorrow when your hand is steadier,” he assured her.  
“I wish I could give you some milk of the poppy but I’ve run out and the last supply shipment was captured,” the Maester explained, watching her with concern.  
“You’ve run out? How can you treat the men?” she asked around a lump of cheese.  
“Not very well,” answered Maester Doran in a harassed tone, running his thin fingers through his hair in agitation.  
“Go to my trunk. There should be a wooden box in the left hand corner,” she instructed, taking a long drink of wine and tearing off another piece of meat with her fingers.  
Maester Doran obeyed and soon he had her wooden case in his hands.  
“Inside should be several vials filled with milk of the poppy and the ingredients to make more. I will use one vial tonight; take the rest and give it to those who have the most need of it. You should be able to brew more by tomorrow evening,” instructed Lady Ailyn, holding out her hand for a vial.  
“There are seven vials in here. I couldn’t take…” he began, holding one out to her.   
“Yes you can. I can take no more than this for another day or I’ll be vomiting until the sun sets tomorrow. Please, I hate to think of it just sitting in my trunk when your men are suffering through far worse than I without any means to control the pain,” she said graciously.  
He still seemed hesitant.  
“Consider it a gift to thank you for helping me. Also, I don’t think I can mix a poultice myself so I will have to ask you to do that as well,” she insisted, downing the vial and then washing the bitter taste down with some red wine.  
“You would…but my lady, we are enemies,” he blurted out.  
She smiled at him as the poppy began to make her vision hazy.  
“You and Lord Tywin think that. I do not. Take it. That’s an order,” she said playfully settling back onto her pillow.  
Maester Doran went over to her and pulled the fur up to her chin.  
“A thousand thanks for your generosity my lady. It will be put to good use.”  
His voice sounded muffled as she started to doze off.   
Her vision dwindled down to a point and then, she slept.

* * * *   
Lady Ailyn’s eyes fluttered open to the sound of a low conversation outside of her room. The pain in her leg was a little less insistent but still enough to make her catch her breath. She propped herself up and drank the glass of water that had been placed near her. It was daylight and there was plenty of noise and movement outside the tent. Ailyn lifted up the fur and her under dress to look at the bandage: it was clean and smelled faintly of herbs. The Maester must have made a poultice for her and wrapped it while she was asleep. She was just lowering the covers as Maester Doran stepped inside.  
“Lady Ailyn, I’m glad you’re awake,” he exclaimed, coming to stand by her. “How’s the pain?”  
“Bad, but not unbearable. I can’t take anymore milk of the poppy until this evening,” she insisted at his troubled look.  
“I trust your judgment my lady.”  
The Maester sat down on her bed after moving the fur, to examine her bandages.  
“Forgive me, I just realized I never asked your name,” she said, watching his fingers gently press several areas of the cloth.  
“Felix, my lady, Felix Doran,” he replied with a quick smile.  
“Thank you for the poultice Felix,” said Lady Ailyn warmly.  
“I could not have done it without your ingredients my lady. I, and several others, owe you their thanks,” Felix informed her, covering her with the fur.  
She was about to say something when a distant war horn sounded.  
Lady Ailyn’s eyes went wide in horror.  
“That doesn’t mean my father has…” she began; panic welling up inside her again but Maester Doran held up his hand in a conciliatory way.  
“No, my lady. He accepted the message Lord Tywin wrote to him yesterday. You may send a message now if you feel able,” suggested Felix, pulling out a chair for her at the small table in the corner.  
“Yes I had better before things get out of hand,” she said pulling back the fur and moving her legs carefully out of the bed.  
Maester Doran helped her rise and led her over to the chair, placing parchment and ink before her. She picked up the quill, dipped it and then stopped in surprise.  
“My daggers!” she gasped. The daggers her father had given her were indeed sitting on her table in their scabbards. She glanced down and was equally overjoyed to see her bow and a quiver nearly full of her arrows leaning against her trunk.  
“Lord Tywin gave them back?” she asked in confusion, looking back at Felix for confirmation.  
“It would seem he trusts them in your hands, yes.”  
All it took was six corpses.   
The small victory made her smile as she wrote a quick message to her father assuring him of her continued well being.  
“We were supposed to have left by now,” she realized, glancing up at Felix again.  
“Lord Tywin postponed our departure. It seems the Northmen have run into a snag of their own and have made camp. I think we will still be on the move within a few days,” warned Felix Doran.  
“I see. I’m sure were the Northmen still marching towards us, Lord Tywin would not hesitate to throw me in a cart and march on,” she hazarded quietly, handing her note to the Maester.  
“Lord Tywin is mindful of your condition my lady. He demands a report every time I see you,” insisted Felix, taking the parchment and rolling it deftly.  
“Really? I didn’t think my welfare ranked very highly among his concerns.”  
“It does, especially now. He…” began Felix then stopped when she raised her hand.  
“I’m sorry, do you think you could wait outside for a moment?” she asked apologetically, glancing meaningfully at the chamber pot.  
“Certainly, I will take your message to Lord Tywin and see about getting you something to eat,” said Felix, striding out.  
When he had gone, she maneuvered herself into position to take care of her needs. Her wound throbbed a little less this time. She set the pot down with an effort and sank back into bed, wishing it were night so she could down another vial.   
Doran returned a short time later bearing a plate of warm bread, cheese, some ham and a small bowl of fruit.  
“That smells wonderful,” she whispered taking it from him.  
“What were you saying before?” she asked, after taking a few bites.  
Doran sat down near her and spoke in low tones.  
“Lord Tywin was furious the day of the attack. He had one of the scouts killed who had given him bad information on the number of Northmen engaging us. Now that he has more time here, yesterday and all day today, he has been sending men into the woods,” explained Felix.  
“The woods? Was that what the war horn was for?” she wondered with a frown.  
“Yes. I believe he wishes to wipe out this clan of Mud Men who nearly killed you,” he said quietly.  
“He would do that for me?” asked Lady Ailyn in surprise.  
“I think it is more a matter of wounded pride than a romantic gesture my lady. Lord Tywin does not like errors in judgment and it is worse by a hundred fold when they are his own. They will not live long enough to regret making an enemy of Tywin Lannister,” said Maester Doran.  
“Have you known Lord Tywin long?” inquired Ailyn, nibbling on some grapes.  
“My father served him many years ago and now I’ve been with him this past month. He was always and will always be a man to be feared and respected,” was the solemn answer she received.  
She nodded thoughtfully.  
“Is there anything else I can do for you my lady?” asked Maester Doran in a normal tone, rising.  
“Yes. The next time I wake, I would like to bathe. I don’t care if the water is hot; I just need a bucket and a towel. Perhaps two buckets so I can wash my hair,” requested Lady Ailyn, finishing a piece of ham.  
“I will see to it and refill your vials once the batch of poppy that I am brewing is finished. In the meantime, I would rest and sleep as much as you can my lady. The march will be difficult, even if you were not wounded,” suggested Maester Doran.  
“Thank you again Felix. I will do as you say,” she said smiling at him.  
He bowed and left her.

* * * *

Lady Ailyn snapped awake. It was quiet in the tent and outside seemed to be calm as well as dark. She sat up rubbing her eyes. Her long brown hair tumbled around her shoulders, filling her nose with lavender from her soap. Ailyn smiled as the memory of scrubbing herself and her hair in reasonably warm water washed over her. She’d even permitted herself the luxury of putting on a completely clean under dress.  
She glanced at the table next to her. On it was a small loaf of bread and a new bowl of fruit as well as water and a vial of milk of the poppy. Maester Doran was very thoughtful as well as kind, she decided. Ailyn had eaten a good meal after her bath so she merely had a handful of grapes and then moved her legs out of bed. She wanted to get dressed and see if she could walk.   
The brown dress she had had on a few days ago had been washed and folded on top of the chair near her desk. Scooting carefully across her bed, and reaching out, Ailyn could just grasp the dull stained hem of her dress. She pulled it into her lap and then, with a little management, over her head. Lady Ailyn stood up gingerly, placing all of her weight on her good leg and let the dress fall down around her ankles. She sat down again and was alarmed at how drained she felt from that small exertion. Her wound was starting to throb.   
“My lady?” inquired Ser Kevan from outside her room.  
“Come,” she called, looking over at him.  
Ser Kevan stepped inside and was surprised to see her dressed and sitting on the edge of her bed.  
“How are you faring my lady?” he asked coming to stand before her.  
“Much better now that I’m clean and have some milk of the poppy in me,” she replied gesturing for him to take the chair at her desk. He hesitated a moment and then sat down.  
“I am glad to hear it.”  
Before he could continue she interrupted with questions of her own.  
“What is going on outside?” she asked.  
“Ah, you will be glad to hear that our men have wiped out the Mud Men. At least, those that were camped in the woods next to us,” Ser Kevan informed her with a touch of pride.  
“All of them?”   
Ser Kevan merely nodded but he still seemed troubled despite the victory.  
“My father will be glad to hear it as well. But that is not what you came to tell me,” she decided, searching his face.  
Ser Kevan met her eyes and she was surprised to see something like sadness in them.  
“I came to tell you that we are leaving at dawn tomorrow morning,” he said quietly.  
“Tomorrow? But I was told…why the sudden change?” she finally asked.  
Ser Kevan took a deep breath.  
“Ser Jaime, Lord Tywin’s eldest son, has been captured. We are marching for Harenhal at once.”  
“I am sorry to hear that. How is Lord Tywin taking it?” she asked carefully.  
“He appears to be handling it but this is a serious setback for our cause and the family name. He feels it keenly and is anxious to be on the move. You had best pack what you can tonight,” suggested Ser Kevan glancing around. She hadn’t unpacked many things from her original leather satchel.  
“I will. I…I don’t think I can ride my horse just yet,” Ailyn told Ser Kevan.  
“A space will be made for you in one of the carts until you are able to ride on your own. I…” but he was interrupted by raised voices coming into the outer room of the tent.  
“…tasked with seeing her with my own eyes my lord,” demanded a male voice.  
“That’s Ser Randall. One of my father’s knights,” she whispered to Ser Kevan.  
Ser Kevan rose and was about to leave when she stopped him.  
“No, Ser Kevan. Please, help me up and walk me to the opening. We have both been telling my father that I’m unharmed. I must make it appear that way,” she whispered urgently holding out her hand to him.  
Ser Kevan glanced from the tent flap to her as Lord Tywin argued with the knight and then helped her rise. She leaned on him as she limped to the opening. It was all she could do not to cry out at the hot bolts of pain shooting up her leg.  
“Stay here and be silent. I will take care of Ser Randall,” she said quietly, straightening her back and taking a steadying breath. Ser Kevan stepped away from her and she pushed the tent flap aside.   
Lady Ailyn took two steps out into the main tent and stopped. Lord Tywin had been striding toward her, no doubt to come retrieve her somehow, but stopped when she appeared, shock flashing across his usually blank face. He stared at her for a second and then recovered himself, turning to face the knight.  
“Good evening my lord. Ser Randall, it was very brave of you to come here,” she said kindly as the knight knelt to her.  
“Lady Ailyn, I am pleased that our scouts were mistaken. Lord Silvyn will be glad to hear you are indeed unharmed,” Ser Randall replied fervently.  
“I am sorry he had cause to believe otherwise but I am quite well as you can see. Lord Silvyn must trust that what I put on paper to him is the truth, especially now that I am leaving,” she informed him, bidding him to stand.  
“He wouldn’t question your word but our men saw the fire in camp and Lord Tywin carrying you from the woods,” insisted Ser Randall looking from Lord Tywin to Lady Ailyn.  
“I was badly shaken up. Lord Tywin was being…chivalrous,” she chose the word carefully glancing over at him. His eyes narrowed for a moment and then looked back at the knight, daring him to disbelieve.  
“Have you heard the good news, Ser Randall?” she asked quickly, to forestall anymore awkward questions.  
“Lord Tywin has rooted out the Mud Men from our woods,” she announced, glancing at Tywin again.  
“What, all of them?” Ser Randall’s eyes were wide.  
“All that we could find. It was careless of Lord Silvyn to leave such a threat so close to his doorstep,” said Lord Tywin.  
Lady Ailyn bristled a little at hearing her father criticized but she overlooked it. This conversation had to end soon or she would faint.  
“Please return to Lord Silvyn and tell him that all is well. Ravens will come less frequently once we are on the move. I will send word when I can,” she instructed the knight, watching Lord Tywin’s face for confirmation.  
Tywin Lannister nodded his approval and then shot the knight one last glare as he rose to take his leave.  
“I will my lady. Gods keep you safe. My lord,” he bowed to them both in turn and then walked out.  
Lady Ailyn let out an unsteady breath and closed her eyes for a second to gather her rapidly fading strength.  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Tywin come toward her with a hand held out to aid her but she stopped him in his tracks.  
“Wait!” she whispered, her gaze still following the knight.  
Several Lannister guards had fallen into step behind Ser Randall but he still had a clear view behind him back into the tent. He did stop and turn to look at her one last time. She smiled warmly and nodded at him. He acknowledged her and then walked from view.  
Only then did she permit herself to sag with a pained sigh. A wall of black leather with a subtle golden pattern filled her vision as strong hands clasped her upper arms to hold her steady. She rested her forehead against his chest for a brief moment, mildly surprised at the warmth against her skin.  
“You handled that very well my lady,” conceded Lord Tywin quietly, over the top of her head.  
“For a woman you mean?” she asked sardonically, looking up at him with a half smile.  
She had a new perspective being this close to him and saw the corner of his mouth curve up slightly under his stubble into what, in any other man, would have been a smile. This made her inexplicably proud although she was surprised to find that she cared at all about his happiness.  
He held her gaze for a moment and then called for his brother. Ser Kevan immediately appeared behind her.  
“Did he believe her?” he asked, coming to stand beside them.  
“Lady Ailyn was very convincing,” Lord Tywin assured him.   
“Please, I need to lie down,” she whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder for support.  
Lord Tywin shifted his arm so it went around her waist and turned her back toward her room. Ser Kevan held the tent flap open for them to pass through and Tywin set her down on her bed.  
“Shall I call the Maester?” inquired Tywin Lannister, searching her face.  
“No, I have everything I need. I’ll take some milk of the poppy and go to sleep. Please wake me in the morning,” Lady Ailyn requested.  
The Lord of Casterly Rock nodded, bidding her ‘good night’ and walked out with Ser Kevan on his heels.  
She hastily pulled her dress up over her head and checked to make sure she wasn’t bleeding through her bandage. When she was satisfied that the stitches had not ripped, she gulped down the poppy and wriggled under her furs. If Maester Doran was correct, she would need her strength for what was to come.


	7. The Leave Taking

The Leave Taking

There was nothing special about the morning Lady Ailyn was to leave Willow Glen. She woke on her own and quickly dressed for the long day ahead. Her wound still ached and she couldn’t stand for long but all the same, she moved about her small chamber, packing things away into her trunk. When Ailyn had finished, she sat back down on her bed with her cloak nearby, a hard knot of anxiety rolling about in her stomach. Two guards came in a while later to collect her trunk; another came in with a small breakfast for her which she picked at it.  
Finally, it was Lord Hugh who came to retrieve her. His Lannister armor was well polished except for the sharp dents and scratches made from past battles. Tall and broad shouldered, he struck a handsome figure even in the winter of his life.  
“Good morning, my lady. I trust you slept well?” asked Lord Hugh, helping her stand.  
“Yes, thank you,” was all she could say.  
She took his proffered arm with both hands as he led her out into the morning sunlight.  
All around them, red tents were falling to the ground and quickly being folded up and packed away. A drum was beating out a steady rhythm somewhere far off to her left. Soldiers were moving about, some running, in all directions but with purpose.  
“I believe you’ll be riding in the cart with the mattresses so you’ll be as comfortable as we can manage,” he explained, walking slowly.  
“I am grateful for that. And my horse?” asked Lady Ailyn, looking over to where the pens used to be.  
“She will be tied behind one of them. Perhaps in a few days you will be able to ride her,” suggested Hugh, indicating the cart nearest them would be the one to transport her.  
“I should like to think I will be able to. My view from inside the cart is like to be rather boring,” Ailyn said thoughtfully.  
“I doubt the view will be much improved once you are riding. In an army this size, all you look at for days on end are the horses’ asses in front of you, if you’ll pardon my language,” Lord Hugh informed her, turning to watch her face.  
She laughed aloud and smiled warmly at him, her anxiety disappearing for the first time in several days.  
He smiled happily back at her, enjoying the lyrical sound of her laughter.  
“You have experience of this then?” she asked playfully.  
“Much,” replied Lord Hugh in a beleaguered way which made her laugh again.  
A growing rumble behind them stopped their conversation and Lady Ailyn turned to see Lord Tywin riding up to them in full armor, on his new white stallion. The smile slid off her face. If the Warrior himself wished to appear in the flesh, she had no doubt he would fashion himself after Lord Tywin. The gold filigree on his black armor flashed in the sunlight; the rich fabric draped over his shoulder fluttered gently in the wind.  
“Get her in the cart Hugh. We need to be off. You are leading the left column,” ordered Lord Tywin barely looking at her. He scowled thunderously at Lord Hugh.  
“At once my lord,” came the quick reply and a short bow.  
As Lord Tywin moved off to bark more orders, Lord Hugh gave her an apologetic glance and led her over to her cart.  
“Have you ever seen him happy?” she asked Lord Hugh quietly.  
“Statues are better at showing emotion than he is. There are rumors that he was happy once…long ago,” Lord Hugh answered her stepping up onto the cart and then reaching down for her with both hands. She slowly raised her wounded leg until her foot was braced on the cart and then she pushed herself up with her other one. Lord Hugh pulled her up easily and held her gently while she regained her balance.  
Lady Ailyn turned her head in the direction of Willow Glen which was visible now that she was elevated. She drank it in and quelled the feeling of foreboding that was creeping back over her.  
“You will see it again my lady,” murmured Lord Hugh, following her gaze.  
“I should like to think so Lord Hugh,” said Ailyn, turning back to look at him.  
She met his concerned blue eyes for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He cleared his throat and took a step back from her instead.  
“Get settled as well as you can Lady Ailyn. I will try to come to you later today,” he said kindly, moving past her to get down off the cart.  
“Only if you are able to, my lord. I don’t want Lord Tywin to be angry with you, not for my sake,” she cautioned, turning to see him go.  
“Lord Tywin’s been angry with me before my lady; I’m still here,” he told her jovially, getting down off the cart.  
She smiled at him and watched him mount his horse. He called out orders to some of his own men and rode off at speed toward the head of a long column of men.  
She bent down under the leather tarp and shuffled into the cart. There were straw mattresses strapped to the sides of the cart on either side of her and several piled up in the middle for her to sit on with a fur to keep her warm. She sat down resignedly and made herself as comfortable as she could.  
After what seemed like a small infinity the cart jerked into motion and began rattling over the ground. The mattresses absorbed most of the jolts but the ride was far from smooth. After an hour, she turned herself perpendicular to the way they were traveling so her back wouldn’t be knocking against the front of the cart. She’d never felt ill from traveling before but by the end of the day, it felt like her stomach wanted nothing more than to crawl up her throat.  
Maester Doran came to collect her from the cart and took her to Lord Tywin’s tent. It was empty save for the two of them. Dinner was brought and Felix stayed with her to make sure she ate enough before giving her a vial of the poppy to help her sleep. She had barely laid her head down to sleep when a horn blast jerked her awake for another day of being jostled in the covered cart.   
By the end of the second day, she was sure her bones were rattling even when she was no longer moving. The pain in her leg eased as it healed. Felix Doran came to her again to change the bandaging and make sure she had enough milk of the poppy.   
Most of the men didn’t pitch their tents each night but slept under the stars in clumps or around campfires. She was grateful that Lord Tywin required a tent and a decent bed every night because he allowed her to have one as well. She saw very little of the lion of Casterly Rock in the first few days unless he happened to be riding past her when she was bundled into the cart. She only saw Lord Hugh once more and that from a distance. Lord Tywin must be keeping him busy, she thought to herself.   
On the third night, she had settled into her bed and was just starting to doze with an open book in her lap when Lord Tywin cleared his throat loudly just outside her room and asked for admittance.  
“Come,” she called, quickly rubbing the sleep from her eyes and pulling her fur covering farther up.  
Lord Tywin stepped inside and held the curtain back for Ser Kevan to step through as well.  
“My lord; Ser Kevan, what can I do for you?” she asked, setting aside her book.  
“Since you were correct about the swamp earlier, I came to see if you can be useful again,” Lord Tywin informed her.  
She glanced down and noticed a rolled up map in his fist.  
“I always endeavor to be useful my lord,” she replied with a half smile, holding out her hand for the map.  
Lord Tywin hesitated, scrutinizing her.  
“Don’t worry my lord, I won’t tell anyone you asked my opinion,” she assured him, leaving her hand out, meeting his green eyes.  
Her assurances seemed to satisfy him and he handed her the map.  
“Please pull up a chair, my lord. Ser Kevan you may have to bring another in; I’d rather have you sitting on either side of me than hovering over me,” she requested quietly, unrolling the map and spreading it across her lap.   
Lord Tywin pulled up her desk chair on her right and Ser Kevan brought in another chair to sit on her left.  
“Now where are we?” she asked, her grey eyes flashing over the canvas.  
“About here,” said Tywin, pointing with a finger to the lower right hand corner of the map. “Harrenhal is here,” he added, moving his finger up to a black dot past a small forest, a plain with a large river through it and a small mountain range.  
“I see your problem,” murmured Lady Ailyn more to herself than to either Lannister. “Traveling through the forest will hide your numbers but is still risky due to the greater chances of ambush. The plain is flat and would be ideal were it not for the river which will put us at least two days out of our way to get around it. The whole army will also be visible for at least two miles with no cover or high ground. The most direct route is through these mountains.”  
Lord Tywin made a sudden noise and looked away from her. She turned to him in surprise and was shocked to see amusement dancing in his eyes.  
“My lord?” she asked, unsure of what she had said that was so comical.  
“You’ve just outlined each possibility with its benefits and drawbacks in a mere moment. My council argued about it for an hour,” admitted Lord Tywin, giving her another appraising look.  
“You have eight great men on your council my lord, all with their own opinions. In this rare case, perhaps it is faster to listen to one ordinary woman,” she suggested.   
“I think you’ve proven you are anything but ordinary, my lady,” said Lord Tywin quietly.  
She was struck speechless for a moment, having never encountered a compliment from him. To cover her confusion, she stared at the map and eventually rested a finger on the mountain range.  
“What is the name of these mountains?” she asked, tapping the map thoughtfully.  
“The Low Mountains,” supplied Ser Kevan.  
Lady Ailyn glanced off to her right, her eyes unfocused, deep in thought.  
“There is no way through; it is a solid wall of rock,” commented Lord Tywin.  
“Ser Kevan, would you go into my trunk? There should be a book near the top right bound in black leather,” she instructed, ignoring Lord Tywin.  
Lord Tywin said nothing as Ser Kevan brought her the book. She quickly flipped through the pages, skimming the contents.  
“What book is that?” asked Lord Tywin impatiently, after she had spent several silent minutes searching.  
“The Travels of Philip Dunstan,” she replied fondly.  
“Does it have any bearing on my question?” demanded Lord Tywin.  
“If I remember correctly, he does describe an easy but hidden path through the mountains my lord,” she muttered, still thumbing the pages carefully.  
“I have seen the mountains before my lady; there is no passage,” argued Lord Tywin obstinately.  
“‘Imagine my surprise when I beheld a way through the Low Mountains. It is well concealed to the distant observer but up close, the bend in the rock face becomes readily apparent roughly 500 paces to the right of the center,’” she read steadily from the book.   
“My cousin found the passage last year in his own travels. Unless there has been some catastrophic landslide, it should be there still,” Lady Ailyn insisted, not liking his immovable, skeptical frown.  
“The last time I made a suggestion you doubted, you still did me the courtesy of sending scouts to verify my words. Will you do so again?” she asked after a moment, trying not to sound like she was pleading with him.  
The Lannister brothers shared a silent look and then with a sigh, Lord Tywin rose.  
“Kevan, I want you to find the two most intelligent scouts we have and send them ahead of the army to confirm this fabled opening. I will not lose time marching all the way there to find out it doesn’t exist,” ordered Tywin, as Ser Kevan stood.  
“My lord may I suggest that the scouts you send go in plain clothing without your sigil? Anyone watching the army’s movements will be unsure who the scouts are supporting if they are seen at the mountains,” suggested Lady Ailyn quietly, rolling up his map.  
Tywin nodded his approval at Ser Kevan and he bid her good night, taking the chair out with him.  
“I am starting to think you would make a formidable enemy, Lady Ailyn,” said Lord Tywin taking the map from her hands.  
“Then it is a good thing we are not enemies Lord Tywin,” she replied with a smile.  
He met her gaze for a moment, then inclined his head to her and turned to take his leave.  
“My lord?” she called, after he had gone a few paces.  
He stopped and turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised expectantly.  
“I am sorry about your son,” she said quietly.  
A shadow passed over Tywin’s face as he clenched his jaw.  
“The Starks won’t hurt him; he is too valuable,” she reasoned, hoping she wasn’t overstepping her bounds by offering her sympathy.  
“They won’t kill him you mean,” he spat out bitterly, looking at the ground.  
“He’s your son. If he’s half as strong and stubborn as you are, they won’t even be able to hurt him,” she assured him with a small smile.  
Lord Tywin glanced up at her sharply, searching her expression for any signs of amusement or derision but he found only concern. He opened his mouth to thank her but he could not say the words. She tried not to react to the sudden vulnerable look that flashed across his face. In the end, all he managed was: “Get some sleep my lady. Good night.”  
“You as well Lord Tywin,” she offered softly, turning her head to blow out some candles. When she looked back, he had gone.

The next day passed much the same as the rest: an early start followed by almost eight straight hours of bouncing against the inside of the cart. Her stomach was slightly more used to the constant movements but the occasional sharp jolt was enough to make her swallow hard and consider praying.  
That evening Lord Tywin came to her room again.  
“Tomorrow you will ride beside me. We should meet the scouts on their return sometime in the afternoon and I want you there to confer with us,” said Lord Tywin, expecting her compliance.  
“That is, if you feel able to,” he added, almost as an afterthought.  
“Yes, my lord, I will be able to ride tomorrow. I don’t think I can pass another day in that cart,” answered Lady Ailyn gratefully.  
“Good,” was his only reply before sweeping out.

In the morning, in addition to her warmest outer garments, she belted her daggers to her waist but decided against wearing her bow. Lord Tywin himself came to take her to her horse. She had to lean on his arm more heavily than she would have liked but voiced no complaint. The pain in her leg had nearly halved in the intervening days.  
Raena whinnied and tossed her mane as Lady Ailyn approached her. She rubbed the mare’s nose affectionately and then, very carefully, swung herself up into her saddle. Her wound tugged a little at the new position but the pain passed. Lord Hugh cantered up on his own brown stallion as she settled herself in the seat. Ser Kevan and Ser Amory both nodded to her as Lord Tywin mounted his white destrier.  
“Ready for today’s ride my lady?” asked Lord Hugh, good naturedly.  
“Very much so Lord Hugh,” she replied, maneuvering her horse over to stand beside his.  
“You have all given instructions to the men riding in your place?” demanded Lord Tywin of his lords.  
They nodded their assent.  
“Good. Then we’d best be off.”  
Lord Tywin raised a fist and two short horn blasts later, they began moving forward at an easy walk.  
After an hour, Lord Hugh wandered over beside her again; all the high ranking lords had more or less stayed within shouting distance of Lord Tywin.  
“See what I mean about the view my lady?” asked Lord Hugh, with a smile.  
She laughed quietly and agreed with him.  
“I don’t think many women in your position would look quite as happy as you do,” he commented, looking at her questioningly.  
“I have always wanted to travel Lord Hugh. These are not the circumstances I would have asked for but, all the same, part of me is enjoying this very much,” replied Lady Ailyn, looking over at him.  
“I traveled all over when I was younger: all seven kingdoms, Pentos, Lys and Qarth,” Lord Hugh rattled off half a dozen more cities across the Narrow Sea.  
“I envy you my lord.”  
“You are young my lady; there will be plenty of time for you to travel to any place you wish,” Lord Hugh assured her kindly.  
“I cannot go alone,” she countered, shaking her head.  
“Show me the man stupid enough not to beg a place as your escort. Once this war is settled and the realm calms down again, I would be happy to take you anywhere you can point to on a map,” offered Lord Hugh, moving his horse closer to hers so he could lower his voice.  
She met his honest blue eyes and realized what he was offering her.  
“That is most generous of you Lord Hugh. Perhaps when the war is over and I am at liberty to return home, I will take you up on your offer,” she replied, beaming.  
A shout up ahead of them stopped all other conversation.  
“Scouts ahead!” came the cry as it filtered back to where they were riding. She craned her neck and caught sight of two riders coming toward the Lannister army at full speed.  
In front of them, Lord Tywin turned his head to the side and made a forward motion with two fingers, spurring his horse. Ser Kevan shouted an order and after one horn blast, the riders all around them reined in their horses to a full stop.  
“Lord Tywin wishes us to follow him my lady,” explained Lord Hugh, holding out as hand for the men behind him to stop.  
She nodded and nudged Raena gently in the ribs to follow Lord Tywin, a knot of apprehension building in her stomach. She threaded her way through the halted soldiers with Lord Hugh following close behind her. Finally, they reached the head of the army and Ser Kevan, Ser Amory, Lord Tywin and waited in a line with Lord Hugh and Lady Ailyn. The scouts were dressed all in black with no visible armor, the grey mountains rising up behind them.  
“What did you find?” demanded Lord Tywin when the scouts drew near enough to be heard.  
Lady Ailyn held her breath.  
“There is a flat pass all the way through my lord. Wide enough for maybe fifteen men abreast on horseback,” reported one of the scouts, reining in his horse before his lord.  
“Any sign of Stark scouts or an ambush?” queried Ser Kevan.  
“We saw no other men for the last twenty miles. I think they expected us to use a different route. The way through is clear, my lord,” assured the second one.  
Lady Ailyn let out her breath in silent relief.  
“We will save at least a day going straight through the mountains my lord,” offered Lord Hugh supportively.  
“Indeed. Ser Amory and Lord Hugh I want you back at the head of your columns. We must narrow down our lines to get all the men through. Ser Kevan, start sending the word back through the lines to narrow down to fourteen men abreast. I want the army to be through the mountains by nightfall,” said Lord Tywin authoritatively.  
“See you on the other side my lady,” murmured Lord Hugh with a wink before spurring his horse around.  
She smiled back at him and then met Lord Tywin’s calculating gaze.  
“You will continue to ride with me my lady,” he told her, shooting a glance at Lord Hugh’s retreating figure.  
“As you wish my lord,” she replied, holding Raena steady as the first rank of a battalion of men trotted past them.   
“Once again, your attraction to masculine pursuits is proving useful,” commented Lord Tywin urging his horse forward as the last of the battalion moved past them.  
“I am glad my unladylike behavior is no longer offensive to you my lord,” she replied keeping her eyes on the mountains ahead of them.  
Some gratitude without a backhanded compliment would be so refreshing.  
“I didn’t say that,” argued Lord Tywin.  
She looked at him pointedly and said “You’re welcome my lord.”  
The Lion of Lannister narrowed his green eyes at her but made no further comment.  
She did her best to ignore the occasional glare from him and focused on the mountains which rose up to the sky the nearer they marched. The scouts had turned their horses around and were leading the first line of soldiers in the direction of the pass. They were gradually veering off to the right, and in a few hours, Lord Tywin and Lady Ailyn were passing the front edge of the mountain that jutted out across the opening.  
The wind howled past them, chilling her to the bone. When she looked up, the world seemed to end in a grey haze far above her. The sun’s light did not filter down leaving them riding in an unsettling gloom. The clatter of hundreds of horses’ hooves echoed all around them. Lady Ailyn shuddered under her cloak and pulled it tightly against her, glancing over at Lord Tywin. His jaw was set in a hard line and he looked about uneasily. She tried to shake the feeling that the rock walls were getting narrower and forced herself to breathe normally. Raena was becoming skittish, jerking at every little sound around her. And when Lady Ailyn was afraid she could bear the strain no longer, the opening at the other end of the pass came into view along with a warm wave of sunlight. The tightness of fear in her chest eased as she urged Raena into a faster trot to get out of the gloom.  
Many miles ahead of them, a broken, black blot on the surrounding green landscape stood their destination: Harrenhal.


	8. Harrenhal

Four more days and one forced night march later, Lord Tywin Lannister crossed beneath the rusted iron gate of Harrenhal at the head of an exhausted army. This morning, many of his men were dragging their heels as they made ready to leave. Lady Ailyn hadn’t complained but he saw her almost slip off her horse several hours before. Lord Hugh had been next to her and had caught her arm before she fell. He frowned to himself. It was time to separate them.  
He rode his horse into the main courtyard and caught sight of a small corral of prisoners with a hefty numbers of severed heads mounted in the rafters above them. Apparently, his instructions to The Mountain hadn’t been clear enough as he maneuvered his horse over to have a word.  
Meanwhile, more men poured into the courtyard followed by Lady Ailyn. She rode alone and Raena came to a slow stop as a soldier walked over to take her reins. Ailyn was too tired to keep her shoulders from slumping forward. Her hair was dirty and her cloak and dress were spattered with mud up to her waist. She leaned forward and gradually dismounted, biting back a hiss of pain as the wound in her leg flared. The constant jarring and bent position of her leg was not contributing to her recovery in the least. She held onto her saddle for a moment and caught her breath.  
She glanced over to where Lord Tywin had gone and shuddered at the sight of the severed heads. Tywin appeared to be giving orders to a man nearly a hand and a half taller than his own impressive height.   
“Where are Lord Tywin’s chambers?” she asked of the soldier holding her horse.  
“Just through the main doorway, m’lady. Third floor,” he replied promptly.  
She nodded and forced herself to let go of the saddle. She took several slow steps forward but the soldier asked her to wait for someone to escort her.  
“I’ll be fine,” she muttered tiredly, moving forward.  
She had almost made it to the few steps up to the main doorway when a young knight came up beside her and gently took her arm.  
She looked over at him in surprise.  
“Forgive me my lady. Someone should be walking with you,” he insisted apologetically.  
“You are risking Lord Tywin’s displeasure by taking my arm,” she warned gently, not pulling away from him.  
“I wish to speak with you, my lady and I may not get another chance,” he explained leading her inside.  
“What is so important Ser?” she asked, wincing as she took the steps into the castle.  
“Ser Dylan, my lady. My brother, Sam, was wounded in our last battle against the Starks. He nearly died but Maester Doran made him a poultice from the herbs you gave him and my brother healed. I wanted to thank you for saving his life,” his words came tumbling out as he walked with her through the drafty hall to the main staircase.  
“I am glad of it Ser Dylan,” she said kindly with a smile. He grinned back at her.  
Suddenly, Lord Tywin strode up behind Ser Dylan and cleared his throat authoritatively. The grin slid off the knight’s face as he took an abrupt step back and came sharply to attention.  
Lady Ailyn opened her mouth to speak in his defense but Lord Tywin merely handed him his gloves with a steely glare.  
“Inform my steward that I am here,” the Lord of Casterly Rock commanded. Ser Dylan bowed quickly and dashed up the steps two at a time, his sword clinking against his armor.  
Lord Tywin gave Lady Ailyn an appraising look and then stepped up beside her, his hand out to assist her.  
She looked down at his hand but made no move to take it.  
“Take my hand, my lady,” said Lord Tywin with forced patience.  
“No it’s just… I’m going to need both your hands,” she requested quietly, not meeting his gaze.  
Her defeated expression was starting to worry him.  
“I could carry you…” he began with a furtive glance up the long, dark staircase. The ache in his knees and lower back argued vehemently against the proposition.  
“No. I feel useless enough already. Please, put your arm around me,” Lady Ailyn said softly, leaning away from the wall toward him.  
He wrapped an arm around her waist and clasped her right hand. She picked up her dress with her free hand and raised her eyes to the task ahead.  
Lord Tywin held back a sharp rebuke as he saw her lower lip tremble.  
The last thing he needed was her bursting into tears. He didn’t have the patience to deal with that.  
“You’ve killed six men since I’ve met you my lady; surely a staircase holds no fears for you?” he asked as gently as he could.  
She looked at him in surprise then smiled gratefully.   
She took a deep breath and together, they walked slowly up the staircase. Near the top, she started biting her lip and making soft noises of pain when she put weight on her wounded leg.  
“Nearly there,” coaxed Lord Tywin.  
When was the last time he had used that tone?  
Finally, they took the last step up and paused at the top.  
“I need to sit down,” she whispered, grasping his hand more tightly.  
“Come,” he urged, leading her down the hall. One of his men was posted outside a door. He opened the door for them and inclined his head respectfully as they passed through.   
It was a large, open room with a hole in the far wall but a fire was blazing in the enormous hearth, throwing a decent amount of heat. Lord Tywin still kept his arm around her. He wasn’t sure that she could stand on her own without falling. Two servants quickly ran in and stood at attention in front of the fire.  
“Forgive us, my lord, we weren’t expecting you today,” stammered the elder of the two, his green eyes wide with fear.  
“Is my room prepared?” demanded Lord Tywin.  
“Yes but we have only just started furnishing a room for Lady Ailyn, my lord. It will be some time before it is fit to live in,” he explained.  
He felt her wilt alarmingly.  
“Show me to my room,” he ordered the young man with the green eyes. “And you,” he said, indicating the other one with dirty brown hair: “finish Lady Ailyn’s room immediately.”  
“I’ll sit by the fire, my lord,” she said so softly he barely heard her as both men moved to do their lord’s bidding.  
“You’ll do no such thing,” he retorted firmly, and steered her after his steward.  
She looked up at him, frowning in confusion but she could do little to stop him from moving her forward.  
His room was considerably warmer than the outer room. A good fire was going and there were no windows or drafts. A large four poster bed with crimson curtains sat opposite the fire as well as several tables, chairs and an elegant, wooden wardrobe. A large, red silk banner with a roaring, golden lion covered most of one wall.  
He led her over by the bed and turned her to face him.  
“I shouldn’t…” she began but he cut her off.  
“No, you shouldn’t be here. I am aware that this is highly improper but you must lie down before you faint. I do not intend to sleep for some time. I will wake you later for dinner,” he promised her, reaching out and undoing the clasp of her cloak. He slipped the muddy blue fabric off her shoulders and, despite the warmth of the room, she shivered and wrapped her arms protectively around herself.  
She looked longingly at the plush, fur covered bed and then back up at him.  
“I can’t…” she shook her head.  
“You will,” he insisted in a tone that no man dared contradict.  
He couldn’t quite decipher the look she was giving him; it was somewhere between fear and effrontery.  
A loud argument in the outer room drew his attention away from her and he strode out to see what was going on, leaving her alone in his room. He pulled the door closed behind him.  
Ser Amory and Lord Hugh were arguing about where to station the remaining battalion of men.  
“Enough!” snapped Lord Tywin. He rubbed his eyes tiredly.  
“Where is Lady Ailyn?” asked Lord Hugh, glancing around.  
“She is resting,” he informed Lord Hugh, taking his hand from his eyes.  
“Amory, I want the men organized and rested. See to it that the prisoners are being put to work,” ordered Lord Tywin, moving over to his desk where there already were a hefty number of papers and maps laid out.  
“Lord Hugh you will be going with your men first thing in the morning to scout the surrounding area. I don’t want any surprises while we are camped here,” continued Tywin as Ser Amory bowed and turned to leave.  
Lord Hugh paused and made to ask another question but the icy look from his lord silenced him.  
“As you wish, Lord Tywin,” he replied quietly, stepping out behind Ser Amory. The guard at the door pulled it shut, so the only sound in the room was the crackling fire. Lord Tywin took several deep breaths to gather his thoughts and then turned to go back to his room.  
He pushed the door open and glanced inside. Lady Ailyn’s dress was draped across the same chair as her cloak, her muddy boots on the floor beside the chair. He noticed a small mound in the bedding and walked quietly over to it.  
Lady Ailyn had already fallen asleep. She was lying on her side, curled up into a small ball with the heavy fur blanket pulled up to her cheek. He stood looking down at her for a moment.   
Perhaps he had been too hard on her. He doubted there were many women in Westeros who could have gone through all she had in the past few weeks and bore the pain and stress of it so well.  
His steward came in then with a bowl of water for his lord to shave with.   
“On the table,” said Lord Tywin quietly to him, pulling the crimson curtains closed around the sleeping lady.  
With his steward’s help, Lord Tywin quickly changed out of his armor and into a heavy, dark blue tunic with a silver inlaid pattern. He washed his hair and shaved himself. No man was allowed to get that close to him with a naked blade. He glanced at the bed one last time and then swept out to find his brother.

 

Lady Ailyn was in her garden at Willow Glen again listening to the soft water noises and the rustling of wind in the willows. She stood watching a hawk preening when the breeze changed direction. The hawk flapped off with a screech and Lady Ailyn turned her head to watch it go. When she looked back, there was a large golden lion padding towards her.   
She gasped and wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach but did not turn to run. She was less afraid this time and the lion was not openly growling, though there was still a low rumble coming from its throat. It paused a few yards away and began to pace back and forth in front of her, confused. She met its golden eyes and watched motionlessly as it padded up to her and nudged her arm a few times with its nose. The lion shook its bushy mane and sat back on its haunches, opening its mouth.  
“Lady Ailyn?” asked the lion.  
Ailyn jerked awake to see Lord Tywin standing over her, moving his hand back to his side.  
“It’s getting late my lady and your room is prepared. You should eat something before you sleep again,” said Lord Tywin, taking a step back.  
“Oh, thank you, my lord,” murmured Ailyn, propping herself up on an elbow and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She looked over at the chair where she’d laid her dress and cloak but only her boots remained.  
“Where is my dress, Lord Tywin?” she asked uncertainly, looking up at him.  
He glanced at the chair as well with a surprised expression.  
“The servants must have taken it with my things to be washed,” was his reply.  
He swept from view and Lady Ailyn heard him open his wardrobe. There was a rustle of fabric and then he returned to her, holding a long, deep red robe.  
“You may wear this in the meantime. The privy is on the other side of the bed if you need it,” Lord Tywin informed her, turning to go. She watched him leave, closing the door behind him.  
Lady Ailyn pushed the covers off her and slid her legs slowly out of the bed. She needed to change the bandaging on her wound. She bent down and slipped her boots on over her stockings. Her corset had been removed with her dress, leaving her feeling oddly naked despite being fully covered by her under dress. She stood on shaky legs and pulled on Lord Tywin’s red robe. The sleeves were too long and the hem dragged on the ground but what disconcerted Lady Ailyn most was the musky, masculine smell it had. She tried to shake away the odd mental image of Lord Tywin constantly embracing her.  
Ailyn quickly went to the privy and then opened the door to the main room. Mercifully, it was empty, save for Lord Tywin who was seated at the head of a long table surrounded by papers and maps. It was dark, the room lit by dozens of candles and the glowing fire in the hearth. There was a place laid for one with a steaming bowl of soup and a small plate of bread and chicken on Lord Tywin’s right, near the fire. He stood when she entered and turned to face her.  
“I trust you slept well my lady?” he asked, his countenance carefully blank.  
“Yes, thank you,” replied Lady Ailyn, taking the seat he was offering her.  
She dipped the bread in the soup and began eating, realizing her hunger.  
Lord Tywin sat down and went back to sifting through letters, leaving her to eat in peace.  
After a moment, Lady Ailyn paused, stirring her soup pensively.  
Lord Tywin glanced up at her.  
“Is something wrong?”  
She blushed, still looking down at her soup.  
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t speak about this to anyone my lord,” she asked quietly, looking up at him.  
“If you are worried about your honor my lady, I think it is safe to say no one will question your conduct,” answered Lord Tywin, meeting her troubled gaze.  
He read confusion in her eyes and the crinkling of her brow.  
“To doubt your honor would also call into question my own. That would be…unwise,” he explained, the underlying menace very apparent in his tone.  
For once, Lady Ailyn appreciated the kind of power Lord Tywin wielded.  
“I see,” she said with a small smile.  
She finished her dinner, keeping his robe tucked snugly around her.  
“Your room is on the other side of the fireplace, my lady. I am told all your possessions have been moved in. Tomorrow, I will order a full bath for you,” Lord Tywin told her, indicating the door behind her.  
She stood up, chuckling to herself.  
He looked up at her in surprise.  
“Are you suggesting my scent is offensive to you, my lord?” she asked playfully.  
“No, I am suggesting that it could be more agreeable,” he answered with a trace of amusement.  
She smiled at him.  
“Thank you, my lord…for everything,” Lady Ailyn said sincerely, dipping into a slight curtsey.  
He nodded to her, the amusement gone from his eyes.  
“Good night, my lady.”  
“Good night, my lord.”


	9. Counterpoint

Lady Ailyn leaned back against the cast iron tub, submerged under a steaming lavender scented bath and tried not to groan at how wonderful it felt. She’d scrubbed her skin almost raw to get the dirt and grit out. Her hair had been another matter altogether. She was going to have to cut some of it off. The ends were far to damaged looking to be worn in polite company again. If, in fact, she was ever in polite company once more.  
Lord Tywin had ordered a frightened kitchen maid to attend her in the bath. The girl’s name was Din; she had short brown hair which she kept back in a messy braid, blue eyes and gentle hands. She had helped Ailyn deftly wash her hair and keep her wound dry though she spoke very little. It was all Ailyn could do to find out the girl’s name.  
Reluctantly, Lady Ailyn stood up in the bath and Din quickly wrapped a towel around her. There were several small stoves in Ailyn’s room to keep it heated since she did not have the luxury of a fireplace. Although the room was warm, Ailyn still shivered against the cold draft from under her door. The cold winds were rising and Harrenhal could do with a few more finished walls to keep them out.  
Lady Ailyn put on all clean under clothing and chose a clean gown of deep purple. She picked up her brush and dismissed Din to take care of the bath. Ailyn pulled open her door and stepped out into the main room. A strong fire was blazing in the hearth. Lord Tywin sat at the head of an empty council table reading a scrap of parchment. He looked up when she entered.  
“May I?” asked Lady Ailyn, gesturing to the fire.  
Lord Tywin nodded and went back to reading.  
Lady Ailyn picked up a small step stool and set it down directly in front of the fire. She carefully lowered herself on it, taking care to stretch out her wounded leg. When she was comfortable, she leaned over to the left slightly so her damp hair fell over her shoulder. She clasped some in her hand and began to brush out the tangles. After a moment, Din quietly came out with a small armload of Ailyn’s clothing to be washed. She bobbed a clumsy curtsey to Lady Ailyn and then left without a word.  
“Why isn’t that girl doing that for you?” demanded Lord Tywin suddenly, startling her.  
“I’d rather she was washing out my dresses instead, my lord. I know how to brush my own hair,” she insisted politely, despite his frown.  
She recognized his glare of disapproval but he made no further comment, glancing down at his maps instead. She felt, rather than saw him look over at her several more times while she was brushing her hair but she ignored him. When the knots were out, she pulled all of her hair back and braided it. She left the last six inches or so unbraided and tied the rest with a small length of leather cord.  
“Might I ask you to do something for me Lord Tywin?” she said quietly, watching his face.  
Only his green eyes moved to focus on her and a silently raised eyebrow indicated he was listening.  
“If you have a dagger near to hand, I would like you to cut my hair. If it’s not too much trouble,” she added.  
She saw him glance at the door, as if considering sending for someone else to do it but in the end, he stood and drew a short dagger from his belt. Lady Ailyn rose as well and held out her braid, holding the ends with one hand and the braid itself firmly in the other.  
“If you could cut just below the cord,” she suggested as he drew near her.  
To her surprise, he put his free hand over hers and moved the braid a little closer to him. His hand was warm, despite the chill in the room; his calloused palm felt rough against the back of her hand.  
“A high born lady’s hair should not be this short,” he cautioned quietly.  
“It will grow back. The rest will be healthier with the damaged ends removed,” she explained.  
He didn’t offer any other arguments and began to cut through her brown hair. It was over in a second, the frayed ends coming away in her hand. Lord Tywin removed his hand, and drew the dagger away from her.  
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, turning and tossing the unwanted hair in the flames.  
He wiped the blade on a cloth napkin from the table and sheathed it at his side without a word. She unbraided her hair, pulled a few front pieces away from her face and tied them back behind her head, leaving the rest down to dry. She went back into her room and retrieved a warm covering for her shoulders and the book she had been reading before the march began. Without asking permission this time, she settled herself on the divan by the fire and began to read. Lord Tywin had sat down at the head of the table against, pulling a new stack of papers toward him. They sat in silence for some time when Lord Tywin cleared his throat and inquired about her wound.  
“It is healing well my lord. Not being on a horse for eight hours a day will no doubt speed up my recovery,” she replied, looking over at him.  
“Good,” was his short contribution to the conversation.  
They sat together in silence; he wrote a few letters as she turned the pages of her book. She wouldn’t have said she was happy but contented was near the truth.  
Three heavy bangs on the door interrupted her momentary complacency.  
“Enter,” rumbled Lord Tywin, settling aside the document he had been reading. A Lannister soldier opened the door and announced the arrival of another clan leader from amongst the hill tribes.  
“He wishes to speak to you my lord only, he won’t let us disarm him,” apologized the soldier uneasily.  
Lord Tywin looked pointedly at Lady Ailyn and motioned with his eyes for her to go to her room. Ailyn sighed quietly and rose to leave. She closed the door on Tywin’s order for the clan leader to be escorted in. She placed her book down on a side table in her room and then stayed near the door to listen to the conversation.  
There was a rustling noise and the soft clink of metal on metal. The footsteps were muffled but heavy.  
“And who are you?” she heard Lord Tywin ask.  
“I am Grist of the Hill Grags. I have three hundred men,” she heard a deep voice garble. “I want what you gave the Stone Crows and Burned Men for killing Northmen.”  
“Swords and axes for all your men and a thousand gold?” suggested Lord Tywin.  
There was a pause then the tribe leader spoke again.  
“You have a pretty woman. Give her to me and keep your gold,” said the growling leader.  
Lady Ailyn stiffened behind her door, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself.  
“The lady belongs to me,” warned the lion coldly.  
Lady Ailyn frowned. There would be a discussion about ownership in Lord Tywin’s future. That is, if he didn’t sell her first.  
Grist grunted.  
“You can buy another one,” he said, attempting persuasion.  
Ailyn didn’t have to see Lord Tywin’s face to know he was narrowing his eyes.  
“The matter is not open for discussion.”  
The finality in his tone made her shiver in spite of herself.  
“Is he being disrespectful my lord?” asked a new voice just across from her door.  
“He is nearing the edge, Clegane,” snarled Tywin.  
“Pardon milord. I will take your offer,” recanted the tribe leader, his survival instincts kicking in.  
“Give me a reason why I should let you leave here with your head still on your shoulders,” menaced the Lord of Casterly Rock.  
“We passed North men coming from the rivers. We will kill them before they meet the others,” offered Grist hurriedly.  
“Reinforcements from the Riverlands?” translated Tywin. “You will have your weapons tomorrow. Kill them all and then we will discuss your payment. Get him out of here, Clegane,” ordered Lord Tywin dismissively.  
“My lord,” said Clegane. There was a clipped noise of pain and the unsteady shuffling of two heavy men as they went past her door. She heard the outer door bang closed and took a few steps back from her own.  
She heard Lord Tywin sigh and then his long strides approaching her door.  
He knocked, which surprised her, and let her know it was safe for her to come out.  
She paused a moment, trying to gather her thoughts and then stepped out.  
Lord Tywin had moved over by an open hole in the wall which served as a large window. He was staring down into the courtyard, hands clasped behind his back, his face pensive.  
She walked over to him.  
“How did he know about me?” asked Lady Ailyn quietly.  
“Word of mouth is sometimes faster than ravens.”  
“If some brute from the hill tribes knows I’m here and thinks I’m your mistress, surely the court at King’s Landing will have the same opinion,” reasoned Lady Ailyn uncomfortably.  
“I’ve explained your presence to Tyrion, who is acting for me in King’s Landing. I’m sure the word of who you are and your reason for being here has spread to those that matter. As I said before, your honor is beyond question,” assured Lord Tywin giving her a hard look.  
She merely nodded and turned to go but stopped after a few steps and looked back at him.  
“And I don’t belong to you,” she informed him, watching him warily.  
He met her glare with surprise.  
“Don’t you?” he asked, as if her protest amused him.  
“I am not property; I belong to no one. Least of all, you,” Lady Ailyn argued, squaring her shoulders.  
“As a noblewoman, you are born to belong to a man and provide him with heirs. Surely, your father explained that to you?” asked Lord Tywin, turning away from the window.  
“My father raised me to be something better than a subservient brood mare,” she retorted harshly.  
“As I am reminded daily. You may be strong, smart and capable but in the end, you are still just a woman. And your fate is very much in my hands whether you choose to recognize it or not,” said the Lord of Lannister, moving past her and sitting back down in front of his maps and papers.   
“I recognize the danger of being held by a man whose views on women are no more advanced than that of the tribe leader you just dismissed, my lord,” she snapped angrily, sweeping past him.  
He started to say something else but she slammed her door on his words. She waited for a moment, thinking he would come in and set her straight but there was no movement from the other side of the door.  
She lit several candles with difficulty, her hands shaking with barely controlled anger.   
He enjoys being a brute just to annoy me. I am not as worthless as that.  
Lady Ailyn sat down on her bed and tried to calm down.   
The fates chose that moment to teach her a little humility however.  
She gasped and clutched at her abdomen as her moon blood trickled into her underclothing.   
Ailyn wanted to laugh and scream at the same time.   
So much for being more than just a vessel.  
She went to her trunk and pulled out her rags, quickly changing her under clothing. She laid down on the bed and pulled a fur close, waiting for the inevitable wave of pain and headache to hit her.   
In the comfort of her warm coverings, Lady Ailyn dozed and was woken later by Din’s gentle steps in her room. She was carrying a plate of food as well as one of Ailyn’s dresses.  
“Thank you, Din. Is Lord Tywin alone?” she asked, sitting up and wiping her eyes.  
Din nodded setting the plate down beside her.  
“I need to speak to him. I will take my meals in here tomorrow. Could you find a vial of poppy in my trunk?” asked Lady Ailyn rising with a slight wince.   
“Yes m’lady,” whispered Din, putting away the dress and going over to the trunk.  
Lady Ailyn steeled herself for a conversation she could never have imagined even in her nightmares. She pulled open her door and walked out into the main room. Lord Tywin was where she expected him to be, still seated at the table with his papers, a half eaten plate of food pushed aside. A boy of about ten with blonde hair was serving as his cupbearer, refilling his lord’s goblet.  
“May I have a word with you my lord?” asked Lady Ailyn walking up to him.  
“As long as you keep it brief,” he muttered, moving aside some papers.  
“I will be indisposed tomorrow and would prefer not to be disturbed,” she said softly.  
“Do you intend to spend tomorrow sulking, my lady?” asked Lord Tywin not looking over at her.  
“No, I will be in bed with stomach pain and a headache,” she corrected, ignoring his jab.  
That caused him to look up at her with a confused frown.  
“What? Are you ill?” he asked, bewildered.  
She looked off to the side searching for any words that would embarrass her less than the ones she knew she had to say.  
He was still focused on her, his frown deepening.  
“No I am not ill. I am bleeding and the first full day usually confines me to a bed,” she said quietly, not meeting his eyes.  
Lord Tywin had the decency to look abashed. He cleared his throat and moved a paper around distractedly.  
“I see. Then I will not trouble you with anything tomorrow,” he said finally, looking away from her.  
“Thank you my lord,” she said, relieved that the conversation had been mercifully brief.  
Without another word she went back into her room and took the vial from Din who then picked up her chamber pot to empty it. She ate quickly and drained the vial of milk of the poppy.   
She slept fitfully, a hawk with red and gold feathers dipping in and out of her dreams. When she opened her eyes, she could see sunlight filtering in from under her door. She forced herself to get up and use the chamber pot, removing her soiled rags and substituting new ones. Her abdomen ached and her head started to throb. The only small mercy she recognized was her wound didn’t hurt at all and she left the bandaging off it for the first time in weeks. It was going to leave an ugly scar.  
She moved back over to her bed and curled into a ball under the covers.  
Din came in sometime later with food and clean rags for her to use.  
Ailyn thanked her for her service and Din nodded silently, slipping out.  
The muted muttering of male conversation drifted in to her a few times throughout the day but Lord Tywin kept his word and did not disturb her.  
When the light was starting to fade from underneath her door, Din surprised her with another visit. She came in gingerly holding a small cloth bundle.  
“What is that Din?” asked Lady Ailyn though a haze of pain.  
“If you please m’lady, it is a stone heated at the hearth. Hold it against your stomach to ease the pain,” explained Din quietly, already helping Ailyn lift the blankets so she could hold it against her. Ailyn pulled the warm stone next to her abdomen and curled protectively around it. Slowly, the pain began to ebb.  
“This is very clever of you Din. Thank you,” said Lady Ailyn fervently but Din shook her head.  
“I am only following orders m’lady.”  
“Who told you to bring this to me?” asked Lady Ailyn curiously.  
“Lord Tywin did, m’lady,” was the girl’s gentle reply.  
Of all the answers she had been expecting, that was the last. Why, in the seven hells would he know… but then it hit her: his wife. Perhaps she had had the same affliction with her own courses. The fact that he trusted her enough to share something as intimate as this, especially after the fight they had just had, made her rethink her position toward him yet again. Always, just when she wanted nothing more than to write him off as a monster, he would suddenly be more than human to her. She felt that she could live beside him for a hundred years and never really know him.  
Din silently shifted her weight, reminding Lady Ailyn of her presence.  
“Please tell Lord Tywin that I am grateful for his kindness,” Lady Ailyn told the girl. Din made her usual inelegant curtsey and slipped out to speak to Lord Tywin, leaving Lady Ailyn alone with her troubled thoughts.


	10. The Assassin

“Are you telling me that one of my best commanders failed to defend himself and his battalion against a night assault from a small contingent of the Stark boy’s army?” demanded Lord Tywin in a dangerously low voice of Ser Amory.  
“Lord Warrick’s scouts didn’t see Stark’s men until it was too late. They should have the blame, not Lord Warrick,” insisted Ser Amory, but he faltered slightly under the Lord of Lannister’s burning glare.  
“There is little point in assigning blame now that they are all dead,” muttered Lord Tywin rising.  
“That hill tribe leader succeeded in wiping out the reinforcements that were on their way from the Riverlands,” offered Ser Kevan.  
“I should have told him to spare some of them for questioning. There has been no news of my son recently,” said Lord Tywin, resting his hands on the table for support.  
“We could launch a swift attack at his main host,” began Ser Amory but a look from Lord Tywin silenced him.  
“I will not thin our ranks any further without better information from the scouts. I have half a mind to put them all to the sword and promote new ones,” growled Tywin.  
“Perhaps we should relocate to King’s Landing then my lord,” suggested Lord Hugh gently. “Our army may be put to better use defending the city against Lord Stannis.”  
Lord Tywin gave him a measured look.  
“If we leave now it will look like a retreat,” argued Ser Amory.  
“I agree that we should not surrender the field so easily but since maintaining control of King’s Landing is the paramount goal, I believe we should secure that before chasing after Robb Stark,” reasoned Lord Hugh.  
“With all due respect to your daughter, the Queen, it is clear she would benefit from your immediate presence at court,” continued Lord Hugh.  
“That’s enough Hugh,” snapped Lord Tywin, sitting down again.  
“There is another report that Robb Stark is marching toward Casterly Rock,” murmured Ser Kevan quietly.  
“I read the report Kevan,” answered Lord Tywin, tiredly.  
“Perhaps it would be prudent to…” began Lord Braxton but Lord Tywin interrupted him with an impatient wave of his hand.  
“Enough. I need some time to think,” said the lion of Casterly Rock dismissively. He rose and walked over to the hearth while his banner men slowly got to their feet and shuffled out.  
When they had all left, he braced himself on the mantle with one hand, the other on his hip. After brooding for some time, Lord Tywin became aware of a presence at his side.  
“My Lady,” said Lord Tywin quietly, acknowledging her but not looking at her.  
“My Lord,” Lady Ailyn replied, watching the light from the flames get lost in his frown.  
She waited for him to speak and when he didn’t, she went over to the table and poured them both a cup of wine. Ailyn held the cup out to him silently and after a slight pause, he took it and stood up straight, lowering his other arm back to his side. He met her concerned gaze over the rim of his cup.  
“I assume you heard our discussion?” Lord Tywin said, in a way that didn’t quite sound like a question.  
She paused a moment, considering her reply, but in the end, she nodded.  
“Dare I ask what your opinion is on the matter?” asked Lord Tywin, in a tone that grated on her.  
“Is that your way of asking me nicely?” she quipped back.  
His frown deepened.  
Lady Ailyn sighed and said, “I believe you should go to King’s Landing and fortify your position from there.”  
Lord Tywin regarded her for a moment.  
“You and Lord Hugh appear to be in agreement on that point,” he observed watching her face closely.  
She kept it carefully blank.   
“Do you disagree?” Lady Ailyn persisted, ignoring his comment about Lord Hugh. She had no desire to get in an argument about how she conducted herself around him again.  
Lord Tywin took another sip of wine and watched the flames again for a time.  
“I am starting to believe it is no longer in our best interest to stay here. If I decide to leave, King’s Landing would be our destination,” admitted Lord Tywin slowly.  
“How many days away is the capitol?” inquired Lady Ailyn, dreading the thought of once again riding her horse for ten hours a day everyday.  
“Four days, if we move quickly,” Lord Tywin said, looking back at her.  
“I see. And if you did leave for King’s Landing, would I accompany you or remain here?” asked Ailyn, taking a drink of her own cup.  
Lord Tywin narrowed his green eyes at her.  
“I merely wish to know what I should prepare for in the coming days, my lord,” explained Lady Ailyn.  
“You would follow at a distance, under guard. I will make sure the city is secure before sending for you,” spoke Lord Tywin.  
She nodded again.  
There was another long pause in the conversation.  
“Robb Stark is proving more troublesome than you anticipated?” she asked, without malice or sarcasm.  
Tywin took another long drink of wine.  
“He has been lucky and reckless; and the blasted Gods are smiling on him,” growled Lord Tywin Lannister in a way that made her take a small step back.  
“My legacy will not be undone by some brazen, untested boy,” Lord Tywin nearly spat the last word. He slammed the cup down on the mantel and stalked angrily back over to the opening in the wall.  
Lady Ailyn paused in shock for a moment.  
“My lord, you surely cannot be worried about that?” she asked incredulously, taking a few steps toward him.  
He glanced back over at her.  
“What?”  
“Your legacy my lord; of all the cares occupying your thoughts, that should be among the last,” she insisted, a look of disbelief still stretching her face.  
He looked away from her and glared down into the busy courtyard below.  
“I do not wish to be remembered as the lion who was defeated by a pathetic wolf pup,” he said, more quietly.   
She would have laughed at the absurdity of the idea if she thought she could keep her tongue afterwards. Ailyn shook her head and then walked over to him.  
She stared at him until he met her gaze.  
“You are Lord Tywin Lannister,” Lady Ailyn began, deliberately adding weight to each word. “Lord Paramount of the Westerlands; Shield of Lannisport; Lord of Casterly Rock. You have acted as Hand to two Kings. You are father to the Queen Regent and grandfather to the King. It would not be an exaggeration to suggest that you have influenced the politics of the Seven Kingdoms for decades. If not for these or countless other reasons, the people will remember other things about you than how you weathered this one petty war.”   
“If the people remember,” he added in a hollow sort of voice but there was a spark in his eyes she hadn’t seen before.  
She looked down to her right to gather her thoughts and then back into his eyes.  
“Of all the men who have lived and died in the last age, there is no one more worthy of remembrance than you.”  
Lord Tywin searched her face with such intensity that she took a small step back from him, a little embarrassed by her own feelings on the subject.  
“I realize that may not mean much coming from a woman,” she began in an offhand voice to lighten her words but he overrode her.  
“But it means a great deal coming from an enemy,” said Lord Tywin, giving her an appraising look.  
A sad smile flashed across her face.  
“Maybe someday you will think of me differently my lord,” she suggested, briefly glancing at his face.  
He made a noncommittal noise in his throat and said nothing.  
“I will leave you alone to think my lord,” offered Lady Ailyn curtseying to him and turning to go. Lord Tywin opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He merely watched her go to her room and gently shut the door. He stayed standing, staring at her door for a long time after she closed it, not moving, deep in thought.

 

Much later that night, a log snapped in the hearth, jerking Lord Tywin back to the present. The room had grown dim in the fading firelight and several large candles had guttered out. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and was about to rise when several sharp knocks on his door interrupted him.  
“Come,” beckoned Lord Tywin, lowering his hand back down to the desk.  
The door opened and one of his guards stepped into the room, closing the door swiftly behind him. The soldier moved to stand in front of Tywin’s desk, back a few feet from its edge, at met the lion’s gaze.  
“I bring a message my lord,” announced the Lannister guard standing to attention.  
“From whom?” demanded Lord Tywin, frowning.  
“The King in the North!” intoned the man, a fanatical light gleaming in his eyes.  
Tywin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. It was then that he noticed the loaded crossbow at the soldier’s side. He rose, taking a quick breath to shout for his guards but the imposter leveled the crossbow at Lord Tywin’s chest.  
“Don’t yell, my lord. There is no one to hear you,” warned the stranger.  
Lord Tywin fixed him with a piercing scowl that most men shrank from. This man did not.  
“So the Stark boy has forsaken his family honor and sent an assassin?” growled the lion.  
“The King didn’t send me. House Stark deserves to sit on the Iron Throne; House Lannister is rotten with corruption. I am doing Westeros a favor by getting rid of its Patriarch,” hissed the assassin, his hand never wavering.  
“Killing me will not win the war for him,” said Lord Tywin in a low voice.  
“Perhaps not, but it will certainly make it easier. The Lannister cause will be considerably weaker with you dead,” reasoned the man simply.  
“You will not live to see my family cast down,” snarled the Lord of Casterly Rock.  
“Neither will you,” replied the assassin with finality, his finger moving to the trigger.  
Lord Tywin opened his mouth but before he could speak, a blade flashed across the stranger’s throat. His shining eyes opened wide in surprise as he choked wetly on the blood spurting from his neck. A hand reached out from behind the assassin and shoved the crossbow sharply to the right just as it released. With the reflexes of a much younger man, Lord Tywin dove off to the left as the bolt buried itself in the upper right corner of his chair back. Tywin watched in shock as the would-be assassin slowly crumpled to the ground and Lady Ailyn appeared behind him. She was white to the lips, in her night dress and dark blue bed robe, a bloody dagger clutched in her hand.   
She glanced down at the dead man and the back at Lord Tywin who was getting to his feet.  
“Are you hurt, my lord?” she asked a little breathlessly.  
“No. Are you?” he demanded, coming up to her as she dropped the blade.  
She managed to shake her head once. Lord Tywin grasped her upper arms and moved her away from the leaking corpse. He put his body between her and the door before bellowing for his guards. Only silence answered his summons. Lady Ailyn put her hand on his arm, her breathing still uneven. Lord Tywin spun on his heel, turned her bodily around and urged her forward toward his bedchamber. She didn’t protest but turned on him warily as he shut and bolted the door behind him.  
“Bolt the door after I’m gone,” he barked striding over to his sword.  
“Your armor, my lord!” she exclaimed, taking a step toward him.  
“There’s no time,” he argued, starting to buckle on his sword belt.  
“Three minutes for as much as your life is worth. You don’t know how many are out there,” she snapped back.   
Before he could reply, she turned and went for his breast plate. She struggled a little under its weight but managed to pick it up and carry it over to him. Lord Tywin muttered an oath, pulled off his sword belt and shrugged quickly out of his rich tunic. Beneath it, he wore only a plain white shirt which brought out the white in his hair. She helped him into the heavy plated armor as well as she could, buckling the straps as fast as her shaking fingers would allow. When she was finished, she dashed back for his gauntlets. Without waiting for him to raise his arm, she grabbed his wrist and pushed the gauntlet over his hand before bending to lace it up.  
“You’ve done this before?” he asked quietly.  
The question caught her off guard and she faltered in her movements, looking up at him.  
“Several times for my husband,” replied Lady Ailyn softly, helping him on with the other one.   
When she was finished, she picked up his sword belt and handed it to him. He buckled it on himself, studying her.  
When he was done, Lady Ailyn expected him to dash out the door but instead, he stood in front of her, rooted to the spot, holding her gaze.  
“Be careful my lord,” she said to break the silence, standing aside.  
Lord Tywin was about to say something when a distant scream interrupted him.  
“Don’t open the door for anyone but me,” he ordered, striding out and banging the door closed behind him.  
“And what if you don’t come back?” she whispered to the empty room. She shook away the thought and went to the door to bolt it. The woodwork around the door frame was rotted; a good kick would probably break it down. Lady Ailyn went over to the heavy table that Lord Tywin’s sword had been resting on and, with difficulty, maneuvered it against the door. Then she turned and searched through Lord Tywin’s remaining weapons to see if there was anything she could handle. Ailyn cursed him for not having a bow and didn’t want to risk returning to her room for her own. In the end, she drew a short sword and sat down on the bed to wait.  
It only took about five minutes of listening to the dead silence and the gentle crackling of flames in Lord Tywin’s hearth before her conscience started to eat away at her.

House Greystone is supposed to be neutral. We take no sides.  
But in this situation, it’s only logical to assist the side that’s currently responsible for my safety, she argued back silently.  
You could have let him die.   
He doesn’t deserve to die like that.  
So you care if he dies?  
…  
He could end your own life with a snap of his fingers.  
He wouldn’t do that. There’s too much at stake for him to risk my father’s anger.  
And who would stop him if he decides he no longer cares about your father’s anger?  
…  
You’ve listened to his council meetings. His men will not say anything to displease him, let alone act contrary to his wishes.  
…  
He could run you through in the middle of court at King’s Landing and no one would dare raise a voice in your defense.

“Enough!” she cried out. She got to her feet and began to nervously pace around the room. Time stopped for her and then stretched on for an eternity before suddenly she heard his voice.  
“Get this blasted corpse out of here!” roared the Lion of Casterly Rock.  
She let out a sigh of relief and went to move the table away from the door. There were three heavy bangs just as she finished moving the table.  
“My lady, open the door,” ordered Lord Tywin.  
She drew back the bolt and pulled the door open, sword in hand. Lord Tywin and Ser Kevan stood in the doorway, both in battle armor; both with fresh splashes of gore on their breast plates. Lord Tywin glanced down at the sword in her hand and then looked up at her, the corner of his mouth quirking into what she’d come to realize was his smile.  
“I just wanted to have something to defend myself with,” she explained quietly.   
She returned his sword and then moved to help him with his armor again. There was a cut on Lord Tywin’s cheek which was bleeding a little, making him look all the more fierce. The fabric on Lord Tywin’s upper arm was slashed as well. She quickly looked Ser Kevan over and noticed trickles of blood running over his left hand. Lady Ailyn removed Lord Tywin’s gauntlets as Ser Kevan started to pepper his elder brother with questions.  
“How did the assassin die?” asked Ser Kevan, flexing the fingers of his bleeding hand.  
Lord Tywin glanced over at Lady Ailyn and said, “My lady opened his throat.”  
Lady Ailyn turned away from them and put the lion’s gauntlets back amongst his armor and weapons. When she looked back at them, there was a heated, but silent, conversation going on between the two men.  
She cleared her throat and announced, “If it’s safe to leave the room now, I’ll fetch Maester Doran since you are both injured.”  
She moved to go but Lord Tywin interrupted her.  
“Don’t bother. The fool walked into the middle of the fighting without a sword,” Lord Tywin informed her.  
She stopped and looked at him.  
“Felix is dead?” she asked softly.  
“I’m afraid so,” answered Ser Kevan apologetically.  
She turned away from them as a wave of sadness washed over her.  
“Lord Hugh, Braxton and Marsh as well as Sers Ryg, Lund and Praed are alive. Ser Amory was not so fortunate,” recounted Ser Kevan to Lord Tywin.  
Ailyn smiled a little at Lord Hugh still being alive. She turned and walked past them without a word. Lady Ailyn went to her room and began to automatically pull ingredients to make a balm for wounds. She moved without thinking and brought the bottles out into the main room with a large bowl to mix them in. There was a dull rushing in her ears though she did not feel faint. Ailyn continued mixing the balm, if only to keep her hands occupied.  
Lord Tywin and Ser Kevan came out into the main room again after a time. Lord Tywin had changed into simple black leather. They were arguing about something; Ailyn didn’t care enough to try and figure out what it was. After a time, Lord Hugh himself came in to give a report. A look of intense relief passed over his features when he saw her. As he was turning to go, Ailyn stopped him.  
“Are you hurt my lord?” she asked, looking him over.  
“No, my lady. I am glad you are unharmed as well,” he replied with a warm smile. Ailyn returned it gladly.  
When he had gone, she looked back over at the two Lannister brothers.  
Lord Tywin was glaring at her and Ser Kevan looked from her to his sibling.  
“Now which of you am I treating first since you are both injured?’ she asked authoritatively, meeting both their eyes in turn.  
“My lady we don’t need…” began Ser Kevan trying to curtail a stream of abuse from Lord Tywin but she cut him off.  
“Yes you do because I’m sure neither of you wants to be remembered as the lion who was felled from a tiny infection in a wound that you were too proud to have treated,” she snapped almost impatiently. Her nerves were frayed, emotionally all she wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up when she was at home again.  
Lord Tywin bared his teeth in a snarl but she met his angry stare with an imperious one of her own. In the end, the lion relented to the hawk.  
“Sit down Kevan,” conceded Lord Tywin, waving a hand in her general direction. He looked at his elder brother in surprise but did as he was bid. Ser Kevan sat down near Lady Ailyn and showed her an open wound on the top of his left wrist. Ailyn went to fetch a bowl of water and a cloth to clean away the blood before binding the wound.  
“You will never risk your life like that again. Is that clear?” demanded Lord Tywin suddenly, striding over to them and coming to a halt in front of the hearth.  
Ailyn looked up at him in surprise, taken aback at his abruptness.  
“My life is my own my lord,” she stated before turning her attention to Ser Kevan’s bindings.  
“Wrong. Your life and its absence now affects a great many more people and has more dire consequences than before. I want your word that you will not put yourself in a position like that again,” insisted Lord Tywin staring her down again.  
She finished tying a knot in Ser Kevan’s bandage and straightened up.   
Lady Ailyn took a breath to gather her thoughts and then said slowly, “I’m no Lannister but I pay my debts as well my lord. As much as I want to think I saved myself the day I was wounded, I know I would have died in the woods if you hadn’t come for me. Now we’re even.”  
Lord Tywin stared at her, unsure of what to say. Ser Kevan stood up after a moment, and after thanking Lady Ailyn quietly, he moved off muttering about checking on something. Ailyn held the lion’s gaze for a moment before he made a noise in his throat and spun on his heel, heading for his bedchamber.  
“My lor-“ she started to say but realized he wasn’t paying attention. She snatched up the bowl and the now slightly bloody bowl of water and stomped after him. Lady Ailyn pushed open his door with her foot and went over to his table to set the bowls down.  
Lord Tywin glared at her in irritation.  
“Your wounds need treating as well my lord. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner I’ll be gone from your sight,” she explained in a long suffering voice.  
Lord Tywin removed his black leather tunic impatiently. There was a large bloodstain on his upper right arm. He went over to her, rolling up his sleeve almost to the shoulder. Lord Tywin half leaned, half sat on the table as Lady Ailyn cleaned away the blood with a fresh towel. The slash was long but not deep, she saw with relief. Ailyn knew her stomach wouldn’t be able to handle it if she had had to stitch his arm. She gently rubbed the balm into the wound and bound it with a long, white strip of cloth. She could feel him looking at her but she kept her own eyes on her work and he did not speak.  
When Ailyn looked at his face again to gauge how bad the cut on his cheek was, she noticed him looking at her lips in a way that made her feel a little self conscious. She turned away and dipped the cloth in the now dirty water again to try and clean it a bit. Lady Ailyn stepped closer to him and dabbed away the blood from his cheekbone. She could almost feel the heat radiating from him. Lord Tywin’s pale eyes flicked up to hers suddenly as she was pressing the cloth against his face.  
“Thank you,” he said softly.  
Lady Ailyn was so surprised she almost dropped the towel. She waited for him to somehow turn it into a sarcastic criticism but that was all he said. Ailyn paused, wishing that he hadn’t managed to catch her off guard again.  
She swallowed and whispered, “You’re welcome.”  
Ailyn looked away from the intensity in his eyes and put a little balm on her finger. She raised her hand to his face and gently patted the balm into his cut. Between his glances at her lips and her heart thudding in her chest, she was a little unnerved.   
Lady Ailyn lowered her hand and wiped her fingers on a towel. She forced herself to meet his eyes again and started to say, “Try not to sleep on your side,” when he interrupted her with a fierce kiss. Tywin wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her up against him and pinning her arms to his chest. His other hand tangled in her hair at the base of her skull, tilting her head up to meet his. She froze in shock as his mouth moved on hers, his stubble scratching at her cheeks and chin. Lady Ailyn pulled in some air through her nose, and began to push against his chest. She could feel his heart beating beneath her hands. She pushed harder, making a soft noise of effort against his kiss. His arms felt like banded steel; Ailyn knew he would only relent if he wished to. Slowly, he let her push away from him, breaking the kiss.  
She drew in a breath and opened her eyes to see him staring again, the intensity still burning. Ailyn’s face was on fire; from embarrassment and his rough stubble. Even though she was shaking, she kept pushing firmly against his chest until he let her take a step back, his hands falling lightly to her hips.  
“I’ll change your bandage tomorrow,” she whispered breathlessly and before he could react, she spun out of his grasp and strode out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. She moved quickly to her own room and shut the door as well. Ailyn drew one of her daggers, leaned against her door and waited, her heart pounding in her ears. She tried to slow her breathing and succeeded when she heard him open his door. She held her breath as his footsteps came closer, closer. They stopped on the other side of her door. She clutched the dagger tightly and said a small, silent prayer for the first time in years.  
One long, horrible moment passed.  
She jumped as he swore loudly and she heard him walk swiftly back to his room, banging the door. Ailyn let out her breath and slumped down to the floor, still shaking, trying to pull herself together. Her face felt raw and heated. It had been years since anyone had kissed her like that and she was ashamed to realize that despite the fear filling her thoughts, her body thrummed with life.   
I will tell no one. This never happened, she vowed firmly to herself.  
Lady Ailyn picked herself up off the floor and went to her bed. She lay down and pulled the covers over her, dagger still clenched firmly in her hand and listened to the deafening silence.


	11. Judgments

The next morning Maester Doran came to see Lady Ailyn at Lord Tywin’s request. He was pleased with how well her wound was healing but apologized for the scar that it would leave.  
“A scar is a small price to pay for keeping my life,” she assured him gratefully.  
After making sure she had enough milk of the poppy, Maester Doran left and Din slipped in to help her dress for the day.  
“Is Lord Tywin in?” asked Lady Ailyn while Din was putting up her hair.  
“No m’lady, he went out early this morning,” was her soft reply.  
“Do you know when he will return?” inquired Ailyn, handing her a pin.  
The girl shook her head and when she was finished with Ailyn’s hair, went about clearing away her things.  
Lady Ailyn went out into the main room. A roaring fire was crackling in the hearth as always but the room was empty, save for Lord Tywin’s little blonde cupbearer. The boy immediately brought her a plate of food for breakfast and a large goblet of water. He spoke even less than Din, which she hadn’t thought possible but the boy was quick and efficient. Din replaced the rock Lady Ailyn had used the previous night by the hearth before disappearing.  
When she was finished, she went into her room and collected her book. Ailyn draped a fur wrap around her shoulders and nestled into the corner of the divan by the fire to read. She passed an hour or so in cozy peace and comfort before the door opened and Lord Tywin strode in.  
He was in partial armor, a cut of rich, red fabric draped regally over one plated shoulder.  
“My lord,” Lady Ailyn moved to rise but Lord Tywin stopped her.  
“Please, remain seated my lady.”  
He walked in, pulling off his black gloves. He strode around the back of the divan and paused for a moment on her far right.  
“It seems you are in less discomfort today, my lady,” he said quietly.  
“Yes, I feel much improved thank you. And…thank you,” she said again, with feeling as she met his gaze.  
He nodded once in acknowledgement and swept into his own room before she could say anything else. Perhaps gratitude embarrassed him.  
Their subsequent interactions had remained polite without any further serious arguments. Lady Ailyn stayed either in the main room or in her own for much of the following days, venturing out occasionally just to stretch her legs. She found herself looking for Lord Hugh when she left the room but she had not seen him since they had arrived at Harrenhal. The grey weather and lack of companionship started to wear on her. She grew quiet and listless. If Lord Tywin noticed any change in her, he did not comment on it.  
Lord Tywin had requested her absence for a long council meeting that day and Lady Ailyn reluctantly left the warm glow of the hearth for the dimmer atmosphere of her room. She had taken to listening at her door during these meetings for as long as she could stand it. There was so much indecision and squabbling she was amazed that anything was ever decided upon. Things would be different if she were sitting at that table. Ailyn smiled. She knew the sun would rise in the west on the day Tywin Lannister asked her to be on his council. Lord Hugh’s voice, deep and certain, drifted over to her. Perhaps she could catch him just after the meeting. Lady Ailyn was just starting to plot what she would say to Lord Tywin to excuse herself when several shouts and a sharp, animalistic shriek cut through her thoughts.  
Lady Ailyn yanked her door open to see all of Lord Tywin’s council members on their feet; half had drawn their swords and all were focused on a point in the far upper corner of the room. No one noticed her as she strained to see what was causing the fuss.  
Suddenly, a huge brown hawk dove off a rafter, speeding directly at her, claws out. She quickly spun her arm in a tight circle, causing the extra fabric of her sleeve to wrap around her forearm. Ser Kevan and Lord Hugh ducked slightly as it flew over their heads. Ailyn held her arm out and waited for the hawk to land. It flapped its wings forcefully several times to slow its descent, blowing her hair back and then it latched firmly onto her arm with another piercing cry.  
All the Lannister banner men turned and stared at her in shock and confusion. None of them sheathed their swords. Lady Ailyn affectionately ruffled the feathers on its chest as it clicked its beak at her. She looked over at them after a moment, a proud grin glowing on her face.  
“You may sheath your swords, my lords. This is Striker, my father’s hawk. My father must be impatient for news. May I sit?” she asked Lord Tywin, who was giving her a calculating look.  
“All of you, out,” ordered Lord Tywin, pulling out a chair.   
Several of his lords turned to go but Ser Kevan and Lord Hugh didn’t move.  
“Go!” snapped Tywin. “We’ll reconvene in an hour.”  
Lady Ailyn risked a smile at Lord Hugh who answered it with a twinkle in his eyes as he stepped out.  
She moved to the chair Lord Tywin had pulled out for her, holding her arm near the top of the chair back. With a mighty flap, the hawk jumped onto the edge, its claws digging into the wood. Lord Tywin kept a healthy distance away from the bird. Lady Ailyn leaned in and plucked the message carrier from the hawk’s leg. She unrolled a long strip of parchment and sat down to read it.  
Her father’s message had a light tone but she recognized the strain in his handwriting. He would never put it on paper, but he was worried about her. He and her brother were well and anxious for news of her health.   
Lord Tywin pulled his own chair back slightly from the table but remained standing, watching the hawk as closely as it watched him.  
Lady Ailyn reached out and placed the small scroll near Lord Tywin. He picked it up and read it quickly.  
“May I send a reply, my lord?” asked Lady Ailyn patiently, the hawk preening its feathers just above her left shoulder.   
“Be brief,” was his reply, carefully sliding paper and an inked quill toward her.  
She picked up the quill and began to write a short reply. Striker chose that moment to hop down onto the table and peck at some unfinished food in one of Tywin’s golden bowls. If the Lord of Casterly Rock’s glare had heat, the hawk would have burst into flames.  
Lady Ailyn was enjoying herself. The presence of her father’s hawk reminded her of her duty and family. She also found Lord Tywin’s uneasiness refreshing.  
“There. I have written that I am healthy and continue to be treated respectfully. I promised to send a raven to him in a few days so he would not have to send his hawk here again since you disapprove of it,” she said moving the paper over to Tywin.  
Lord Tywin reached out to take the paper but Striker screeched and snapped at his fingers. The Lord of Lannister jerked his hand back, leaving the paper where it was.  
“Get that animal off my council table,” he growled angrily at Lady Ailyn.  
“I am sorry, my lord. He never had polite table manners,” she apologized, rewrapping the fabric of her sleeve around her arm.   
She whistled shortly and Striker flapped back onto her arm. Lord Tywin picked up her note as she moved away and read it quickly. He rolled it between his fingers and handed it to her as she walked past him to the opening in the wall. With a little management, she placed the note in the metal carrier on his leg. She ruffled his feathers one last time then lifted her arm up to send him off. He screeched one last time as he flew off in the direction of her home. She stood at the opening after he had gone, smiling.  
When she turned around, she met the full force of Lord Tywin’s glare.  
“You will use ravens from now on. If that bird ever comes to this castle again, I’ll have it killed and served to you on a platter, is that clear?” demanded Lord Tywin, his countenance thunderous.  
Her smile vanished.  
“I beg your pardon my lord. I didn’t know my father would send his hawk. I am content to use ravens when you can spare them. I apologize for interrupting your meeting,” she said quietly, moving carefully past him with her head bowed. She went to her room, slipped on her cloak and quickly left the room, and Lord Tywin’s frown, behind.   
She turned to the right and began to climb the stairs, her wound pinching only slightly. The two guards from the door followed her at a distance. At the top of the next landing, she saw Lord Hugh in conversation with one of his men. When he noticed her he quickly dismissed the knight and descended the stairs to meet her.  
“My lady, I am glad you are still in one piece. Lord Tywin looked displeased when we left,” said Lord Hugh, coming to a halt near her.  
“He threatened to kill my father’s hawk and serve it to me for supper so no, he is not in the best humor at present,” she informed him with a small smile.  
“He does not like to be caught off guard,” murmured Lord Hugh glancing back down the stairs behind her at the two guards.  
“I’ll add it to the long list of things he doesn’t like,” she quipped.  
Lord Hugh chuckled and then turned serious, concern radiating from his blue eyes.  
“You are well, though, my lady?” he asked softly, stepping a little closer to her.  
“Yes, my leg is healing faster now that we are no longer on the move everyday,” she replied, a little surprised at the sudden shift in his demeanor.  
“I am glad of it but that isn’t what I meant,” persisted Lord Hugh, his voice falling to just above a whisper.  
She frowned in confusion and waited for him to explain.  
“Lord Tywin, he isn’t…he hasn’t…” Lord Hugh cast about for the proper words, looking at her meaningfully.  
“He is not the most agreeable man I’ve ever kept company with but he has done nothing dishonorable if that is your concern,” she assured him in an equally quiet voice.   
Relief washed over Lord Hugh’s face.  
“Good. It’s just that there are rumors…” he trailed off.  
“If there are any, you would do well to hush them up. If Lord Tywin hears that his own men are whispering behind his back, he will start removing tongues. There is nothing between us,” she reiterated, shaking her head for emphasis.  
Lord Hugh was about to say something else but he was interrupted. A Lannister soldier ran up the stairs to them and bowed to Lord Hugh.  
“Forgive me, my lord. Lord Tywin demands that you assemble his council,” panted the man.  
“Tell Lord Tywin I will at once,” said Lord Hugh, although there was a slight edge to his usually even voice. The soldier ran back down the steps as Lord Hugh turned to her.  
“I had better go. I am glad you are well my lady. I hope to convince Lord Tywin to leave this place soon,” said Lord Hugh, clasping her hand briefly before heading down the stairs.   
She smiled after him and then continued farther up the stairs, the Lannister soldiers following her. She reached the battlements of the tower she and Lord Tywin were staying in and stared out at the bleak landscape. Lord Silvyn had told her the story of Harrenhal when she was younger. It had sounded like an awful place in his story and now that she was here, it only seemed that much worse. The melted statues and crumbling walls gave her a very uneasy feeling. She was standing on the ruins of a once great house and living side by side with a man who had caused the ruin of two others.   
Lady Ailyn stayed out, staring down at the soldiers going about their duties in the yard below, lost in thought. Sometime later, a light drizzle brought her back to her senses. She pulled her cloak more tightly around her and was about to head down stairs when there were several shouts farther down the battlements off to her left. Ailyn stopped and turned to see what the men were yelling about. There were three guards farther down the wall and one was pointing at something beyond the castle walls. She ran to the side and looked out. Lady Ailyn strained to see what the soldier was pointing at and then she saw it: a small blonde head running at full speed away from Harrenhal. Lord Tywin’s cupbearer.  
She glanced back over at the soldiers and her stomach lurched as one of them raised a long crossbow. Lady Ailyn broke into a run.  
“NO!” she screamed breathlessly, but she heard a ‘snap’ as the crossbow released. It struck the boy in the back and he crumpled to the ground.  
The men all turned to look at her in surprise as she ran up to them.  
“How dare you? He was just a boy!” she shouted at the man who had pulled the trigger.  
“I’m just following orders, milady,” he protested, lowering the crossbow to his side.   
“We were ordered to shoot any of his servants that tried to desert,” the soldier explained with a noncommittal shrug.   
She looked down at where the boy had fallen. Two soldiers were already heading over to collect his body. White hot rage surged through her. She didn’t have to ask whose orders they had been. Lady Ailyn turned and ran down the battlements back toward the stairs. She shoved one of his guards out of her way and moved swiftly down the spiral staircase back to their rooms.  
Two more guards had taken the place of the soldiers who where following her. One opened the door at her rapid approach. She stormed in to find Lord Tywin standing by the opening in the wall, his back to her, hands clasped behind him.  
“Your cupbearer just tried to run away,” she cried, walking directly over to him.  
He turned to her with concern in his pale eyes.  
“Your men shot him!” exclaimed Lady Ailyn indignantly, her face pink with anger.  
The concern melted away.  
“Then they followed my instructions,” he said simply, turning away from her again.  
“How could you? He was just a boy!”   
Lord Tywin rounded on her.  
“Yes, a boy who’s been privy to every council meeting I’ve held for the last week. That kind of knowledge is dangerous even for a child,” said Lord Tywin sternly.  
“He…but…” she sputtered incoherently. There were no words for this.  
She took a breath and composed herself a little.  
“Forgive me, my lord,” she said icily, “I’d forgotten you’re no stranger to murdering children.”  
She spun on her heel and took several steps before he spoke.  
“Are you judging me?”  
The fire in her veins abruptly went out and was replaced with icy fear. She’d heard him speak in anger before but this was different. His tone made her believe, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Death was standing right beside her with His hand out.  
She turned slowly, trying to summon her courage but it fled the moment she met his eyes. They burned with a terrifying intensity.  
“I’ve killed men for less than half the insults I’ve suffered from you this past month,” he growled, stalking toward her.  
If he had had a weapon in his hands, she would have screamed. As it was, she took a step back for every stride he took forward.  
“I alone brought my house up from the dirt my father mired us in. I’ve wiped out entire Houses for their insolence,” he snapped, his voice cold and dark.  
She jumped as her back ran up against the far wall. The lion of Casterly Rock still advanced.  
“I alone kept the peace in King’s Landing as Aerys slowly went mad and it was I who solidified Robert’s reign after the Rebellion.”  
He drew up to within a hand’s breath away from her, his eyes boring into hers. He inclined his head toward her slightly and she looked down to the right, away from him.  
“I did all this before your father ever had filthy thoughts about your mother and you think you can lecture me?” he breathed softly.  
She flinched as he reached out and grasped her chin between his forefinger and thumb, turning her face back to his.  
“Tell me what difficult decisions you have made my lady,” he said deprecatingly. “What heavy burdens do you carry?”  
Lady Ailyn swallowed and gathered her strength. She twisted her head back, out of his hand and said softly, “I killed my mother.”  
The anger in his eyes shifted to inquiry and he took a small step back, lowering his hand.  
“What?” he asked, his brow furrowed.  
“My mother was giving birth to my brother. There were…complications. Our Maester came to my father and me during the delivery and told us he could only save one of them. He asked my father to choose,” began Lady Ailyn, as tears crept into her eyes at the memory.  
“My father couldn’t bear the thought and would not speak. There was no time so I made the decision. My father needed an heir. My mother died and my brother lived,” finished Lady Ailyn, her voice cracking on the last word.  
She brought her hand up to hide her face. She didn’t want to cry in front of him but tears were already streaming down her face.  
She pushed past him as a sob broke free. She ran to the door and pulled it open. Lord Tywin called out to her but she didn’t hear the words over her troubled breathing and the pounding of her heart. She ran past the surprised guards; ran down a hallway; and another; then another until she wasn’t sure where she was any longer. She pulled open the door to the first room she could find and shut herself inside it, sobbing hysterically. There was a pile of damp straw in the corner and she threw herself down on it and buried her face in her arms. She wept until she was empty and light headed. Minutes passed or hours; she had no sense of time in the darkened room. Several soft taps on the door made her jump.   
“My lady?” asked a muffled voice.  
“Go away!” she yelled, and curled up as well as she could in her confining corset.  
The door opened slowly anyway and a figure stepped inside. She glanced over but her eyes were blurry with tears.  
“Go away,” she whispered again, hiding her face.  
“My lady, please; the floor is cold,” insisted a gentle voice.  
She looked up again, wiped her red eyes and met the concerned blue ones of Lord Hugh. He knelt on the ground and tentatively put a hand on her back.  
To her shame, she started crying again. Lord Hugh tried to help her sit up. She buried her face in his neck as he gently put his arms around her.  
“Did he hurt you?” he asked quietly, after she had calmed down a little.  
“No. He’s so heartless; I can’t bear to be near him. Please, take me away from here,” she begged, putting her arms around him.  
She felt him sigh deeply.  
“Don’t tempt me anymore than I already am Lady Ailyn. I have half a mind to steal you away in the night and damn the consequences,” he whispered.  
She picked her head up and looked at him in the dim light.  
“He would kill you,” she said.  
“He would have to find me first,” replied Lord Hugh with a small smile.  
She laughed once and then hung her head.  
“You shouldn’t say such things. I am being weak and foolish. I can’t leave,” she sighed resignedly.  
“You are allowed to be weak you know,” he urged.  
“No, I can’t be. I have to be strong for my family,” Lady Ailyn resolved, as she wiped tears from her eyes again.  
As her emotional crisis subsided, she started to shiver.  
“You need to be near a fire my lady. Please, let me take you back,” offered Lord Hugh getting to his feet and then reaching down to her. She took his hands and rose shakily to her feet but the combination of her tight corset, recent exertions and a skipped meal overpowered her. She collapsed against Lord Hugh with a soft cry.

Lady Ailyn’s eyes fluttered open to the half light of her room. She was lying on her bed wrapped in a warm fur, and she was not alone. She blinked a few times to focus and then froze. Lord Tywin had pulled up a chair and was sitting beside her but his posture was all wrong. She had only ever seen him sitting ramrod straight or standing at attention, always tense, always controlled. The man beside her was leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. He was staring blankly at some candles in the corner, an empty, slightly haunted look on his face. It was like looking at a statue that had suddenly crumpled under its own weight.   
She slowly sat up and moved back until she was sitting against the headboard. When she started moving, his face instantly went blank as he sat up and looked at her. They stared at each other for a moment before Lord Tywin asked if she wanted some wine.  
“Water,” she amended quietly.  
She expected him to call for a servant but he rose and poured her a cup himself. She took the goblet from his hand, her fingers brushing against his as he let go. She took a few sips and then held it in her lap, still slightly afraid of his presence.  
He noticed her wary expression and cleared his throat to speak.  
“You have made several assumptions about me, my lady, and I in turn, have made some about you. Perhaps one of the reasons we seem to be at each other’s throats so often is that we are both mistaken in our beliefs.”  
He paused and waited for her to argue but she remained silent.  
“My experience of women has led me to believe that most of them are weak, irrational, and untrustworthy. You are none of those things and consequently, I don’t know how to deal with you. You have valuable opinions but I cannot be seen to be taking your advice,” explained Lord Tywin, searching her face for confirmation.  
“I understand that what you do and what you are seen to be doing can be very different things,” she replied.  
“Then you have learned one of the most valuable lessons of nobility,” he concluded.  
“And what are my false assumptions, my lord?” she asked curiously.  
Lord Tywin paused a moment, focusing on the candles in the corner again.  
“I take no pleasure in the knowledge that that boy is dead on my orders but it is the decision that my position required of me. I don’t make the choices I want to make but the ones that need to be made because the honor of my house and the welfare of the realm demand it. I have the strength to bear the heavy burden of responsibility where others would collapse under its weight.”  
He took a breath and then fixed her with a look.  
“I know you understand this, my lady, in light of the decision you made to keep your brother, not your mother. It was not what you wanted, but what your family needed. I respect you for having the strength and foresight to realize that,” said Lord Tywin as gently as he could.  
He paused again.  
“It may have been the right decision but it nearly destroyed me,” she whispered, looking down at the cup in her hands.  
“Be thankful you only have one decision to haunt you,” replied Lord Tywin, staring into the candle flames again, empty bitterness in every word.  
Lady Ailyn leaned forward without thinking and placed her hand gently over his. He looked down at it but did not pull away.  
“Thank you for sharing this with me,” she said fervently.  
Lord Tywin raised his eyes to hers. Her chest tightened a little at the pain, longing and something else she couldn’t quite put a finger on in his look. Lady Ailyn found herself wanting to comfort him. She pressed his hand but suddenly, his eyes went blank again. He sat up straight in his chair and moved his hand out from under hers. He had gone from being just a man to Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King.  
“You understand that this conversation will never leave this room,” he said quietly, his eyes sharpening slightly.  
She nodded and placed the cup on the table beside her bed. Lord Tywin returned the chair to the corner and walked back to her.  
“You will…” he began, and then stopped, glancing away.  
“Will you dine with me?” he amended, searching her face.  
For the first time since she had met Lord Tywin, Lady Ailyn finally felt as though he was genuinely asking her something and that she had the right to refuse.   
She waited a moment and then said, “Yes, I will.”  
Lord Tywin held out a hand for her and she let him help her to her feet. He kept hold of her hand and together, they went into the main room for supper.


	12. King's Landing

Lady Ailyn was running through the dim hallways of Harrenhal. The cold wind whistled through the holes in the walls, making her throat burn as she gulped in air. There were heavy footsteps behind her but she couldn’t see who was giving chase. All she knew what that she was afraid and had to get away. She turned around a corner and slipped inside a darkened room, trying to catch her breath. Ailyn moved back farther inside the room, and listened for the approaching footsteps. Gradually, they grew louder and louder until they seemed to be just outside the door when suddenly, they stopped. Ailyn was too scared to move. She breathed silently through her mouth and waited, her ears and eyes straining in the dim light. Just as she was preparing to move, a pair of rough hands grabbed her from behind; one went over her mouth, the other clenched on her upper arm pulling her back against a broad chest.  
Lady Ailyn snapped awake to Din gently touching her arm, trying to wake her.  
“Sorry to disturb you m’lady. You looked troubled,” whispered the girl quietly, watching her intently.  
Lady Ailyn slipped the dagger she was still grasping a little farther under her pillow and thanked Din for waking her. She glanced beyond the girl and noted that the door was closed.  
“Is Lord Tywin in?” asked Lady Ailyn hesitantly, in a low voice.  
“He is dressing m’lady,” answered Din in her soft voice.  
Lady Ailyn nodded and pushed away the memory of last night. She dressed slowly, her eyes always on the door. Din braided Lady Ailyn’s hair along the crown of her head and then united the two braids into one long one down her back. When she was finished, Ailyn thanked her and then sat back down on her bed, unsure of what to do. Din bobbed a curtsy and slipped out. Ailyn found the dagger under her pillow and held it in her hands pensively. Her stomach growled impatiently after a while, annoyed at being denied breakfast but still she did not leave her room.  
Eventually, she heard his voice, giving out orders. Unconsciously, her mind wandered back to the previous evening. His burning green eyes, his long fingers in her hair, the demanding pressure of his mouth, the soft crackling of the hearth. She shook her head and poured some cold water into a large bowl and splashed her heated cheeks.   
Enough. You are being weak.   
She took a deep breath to calm her nerves but several crisp knocks on her door scattered them once again. Ailyn waited breathlessly but no verbal request was uttered. She drew herself up, squared her shoulders and went to the door. Lady Ailyn pulled it open to find Lord Tywin, in full Lannister armor, standing a little back from the doorway.   
“Are we leaving?” she blurted out, annoyed at the high pitch of her voice.  
Lord Tywin met her questioning gaze for a moment and then looked away before he answered.  
“We will be in a few hours,” Lord Tywin informed her.  
She nodded.  
“Will you come out for a moment?” requested the Lord of Casterly Rock quietly.  
She didn’t speak but took a few steps forward. Lord Tywin moved over to stand near the hearth and turned to face her. Lady Ailyn stopped a healthy distance away from him and waited. He clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat to speak. Lord Tywin paused and then said softly, “My lady, I…” and then broke off, looking sideways into the flames. He seemed angry but with himself more than with her.  
Lady Ailyn watched him with a growing realization: the great lion was uncomfortable. His hesitation and his inability to meet her gaze spoke louder than any apology he could have made to her. She decided to end his inner turmoil.  
She looked at the flames herself and said quietly, “I suppose I should be thanking you.”  
Lord Tywin looked at her, his features sharpening into a frown of confusion.  
She glanced up at him and then back into the hearth.  
“I remember what my husband was like, the few times he came to me after he had shed blood in battle,” she explained, blushing a little at the memory. “So with the knowledge of what could have happened, I am thanking you for your restraint.”  
“I assaulted you,” insisted Lord Tywin in a hard voice.  
She met his eyes and held them this time.  
“You let me go. That is more important,” she countered.  
She could tell from his frozen frown that he didn’t agree with her.  
“You stole a kiss my lord; you are hardly the first man in history to do that,” Lady Ailyn continued, keeping her tone light, conciliatory.  
“I have never done such a thing,” he growled under his breath, looking at her feet.  
“I forgive you, Lord Tywin, if that is what you seek. All I ask, is that you do not make a habit of such behavior,” she requested firmly, searching his pale eyes.  
Lord Tywin seemed to grow a little taller as he met her gaze, staring her down as he always did, all uncertainty gone from bearing.  
“You have my word, it will not happen again,” said Lord Tywin, searching her face.  
No knight swearing an oath of loyalty to his king had ever sounded as fervent and solemn as the lion of Casterly Rock did as he spoke to her.  
“I believe you, my lord,” replied Lady Ailyn simply.  
Lord Tywin was about to say something else when the door opened and Ser Kevan strode in. He stopped when he saw his brother and Lady Ailyn standing by the fire but she turned to him with a smile.  
“Good morning Ser Kevan. How is your wrist?” she inquired smoothly, moving to pour herself a glass of water.  
“Healing my lady, thank you,” Ser Kevan answered glancing from her to Tywin.  
“Good. I can redress it for you before you leave if you wish,” Lady Ailyn offered, sitting down at the table.  
“That won’t be necessary. My lord, the men need to be organized if you wish to leave this morning,” counseled Ser Kevan, coming up to the table as well.   
“Why the rush?” asked Lady Ailyn, sipping her water.  
“Word arrived early this morning that Stannis has sailed for King’s Landing. If we move quickly, we should arrive at about the same time and crush him,” said Lord Tywin behind her.  
“Very well. I will stay out of your way then this morning, my lord. Would you send for Din to help me pack?” she asked, plucking a warm bun out of the basket on the table and rising.  
Lord Tywin looked at her, nonplussed.  
“The girl who has been helping me dress every morning. Her name is Din,” retorted Lady Ailyn, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice.  
Lord Tywin nodded impatiently and waved her away.  
She went back to her room and began to put her things back into her trunk. Ailyn knew she was going to need to change into clothes she could travel in. Her leg had all but healed by now, only twinging occassionally when she took the stairs too quickly. The scar was a white slash just above her knee and none too attractive. She smiled ruefully to herself. No one would see it except her maids and perhaps her next husband. Ailyn pushed that unwelcome thought away and took several bites of her bun as it was cooling in the crisp morning air.  
Lord Tywin and Ser Kevan were still talking in the next room. She listened to the authoritative command in his voice and marveled at the fact that a quarter of an hour earlier, he had been nearly speechless with contrition. She sat down, still chewing absently on the now cold bun, thinking. Had he just been upset over doing something dishonorable or did he really care about her opinion of him? What was her opinion of him was the harder question.  
“M’lady?” whispered Din from the doorway, interrupting her thoughts.  
“Din, come in. I’ll need some help packing and changing,” requested Ailyn getting up.  
Din nodded and closed the door behind her.  
Over the next half hour, Lady Ailyn changed into a warm riding dress and had most of her things packed away in her trunk. Din was turning to go when Ailyn stopped her.  
“Din wait a moment. I’d like a word with you,” said Lady Ailyn quietly, sitting down on her bed.  
The girl obediently came forward and waited with polite attention.  
“What will you do when I leave here?” Lady Ailyn asked.  
“Cook in the kitchens for the soldiers who remain here,” she answered softly, not meeting Ailyn’s eyes.  
“Do you want to stay here?” prodded Ailyn, searching the girl’s pale face.  
Din glanced up at her and then back down at the floor. Slowly, she shook her head.  
“Then I want you to have this,” decided Lady Ailyn standing up and handing the girl a small pouch, and an equally small folded letter, sealed with her sigil.  
The girl held out her hands for them, but her eyes were full of questions.  
“This is a letter to my father, Lord Silvyn of Willow Glen. Do you know of the city?” Ailyn asked, pausing.  
Din nodded.  
“Good. After I’ve gone, sometime during the night, I want you to get away from this place. I’m giving you enough gold to get to Willow Glen several times over. Get this note to my father and he will see to it that you have a place in our household. You’ve been a good servant to me Din. The best reward I can think of is to get you away from here,” concluded Lady Ailyn.  
While she was speaking, she noticed that Din’s eyes were filling with tears. When Ailyn had finished, Din suddenly threw her thin arms around Lady Ailyn and whispered a heartfelt ‘thank you’ into Ailyn’s chest. Ailyn smiled and held the girl for a moment but then Din pulled away, wiping her eyes.  
“You are very welcome. Remember, you must be careful though. Don’t let anyone see you leave,” cautioned Lady Ailyn again, a horrible image of a crossbow flashing through her mind.   
The girl nodded fervently and deftly secreted the small pouch and note about her person. Din smiled at her and then carefully made her face blank once more. She bobbed her usual clumsy curtsy and turned to go.  
“Here, take this too,” offered Lady Ailyn picking up her brown dress with the vine pattern up the side. “I can never wear this again. Put it on under your clothing; it will keep you warm when you leave.”  
Din beamed at her again and then she was gone. Lady Ailyn buckled on her own belt of daggers and then stepped out into the main room again.  
“I am ready to leave whenever you wish, my lord,” she announced.  
“Good. We will leave presently. When we are a few hours away from King’s Landing you will stay behind with Lord Braxton and a small contigent of men until the city is secure. If the battle goes against us, he will take you to Casterly Rock,” explained Lord Tywin, as one of his knights rolled up his last map and took it away with a small armload of others.   
“And then what?” she asked, not liking the idea of being held in the lion’s den.  
Lord Tywin gave her a look.  
“You will wait there until I decide otherwise.”  
If nothing else, he was certainly back to his usual self again.  
“As you wish, my lord,” she agreed.  
“Get your cloak.”  
Lady Ailyn went back to her room one last time and retrieved her clean, heavy blue cloak. She glanced around the room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything and then turned her back on it.  
She walked out with Lord Tywin and together they stepped into the bustling courtyard. Ailyn looked around for Lord Hugh but she saw no sign of him. A squire was holding Raena’s reins for her and she took them happily. Raena danced a little impatiently and snorted, tossing her white mane.  
“You are as anxious to be gone from this place as I am,” she said quietly, patting her horse’s neck. She mounted up and made herself as comfortable as she could in the saddle. Lord Tywin mounted his own horse, a little stiffly in his armor and maneuvered his horse around to face the other soldiers who were readying to leave.  
“Move out!” he bellowed.  
Lord Tywin urged his horse over to Lady Ailyn.  
“You will ride with me for now,” said Lord Tywin, not waiting for a response.  
She smiled to herself and goaded Raena to an easy canter alongside Lord Tywin.   
Every mile that increased the distance between her and Harrenhal lightened her spirits. The day was fine if a little chill, an insistent wind at their backs. Lord Tywin spoke to her only a few times but Lady Ailyn sensed that it was more for appearances sake than any real desire for her conversation. Other knights and lords rode up to speak with Lord Tywin and left with new orders. Lady Ailyn thought she caught a glimpse of Lord Hugh far off to her right, but with the armor and constant movement, she couldn’t be sure it was him.   
The army paused later in the day for a quick meal and to let the horses rest. Ailyn ate rapidly and mounted back up on her horse as soon as the men did. The horses moved no faster than a brisk walk and an occassional easy canter. Raena seemed pleased and Ailyn was simply happy to be away from Harrenhal. By the evening, she was not as happy; her legs ached and her back was sore. Even though she was wearing gloves, her hands were chaffed and raw from the reins. She got down off her horse with difficulty. Lord Tywin took her by the elbow to make sure she could stand on her own power. Lady Ailyn nodded to him and he let go of her.  
“I would have my own tent, my lord,” she requested quietly, looking up at him.  
He met her grey eyes for a moment and then barked an order to one of his men.  
“We will leave at dawn, if not before,” he said, before moving away from her.  
She walked with as much dignity as she could over to where several men were raising a small tent for her. Ailyn took off her gloves and flexed her weary fingers. She tried to remember if she had any oils left from the last spat of riding for days on end.  
A short while later, Lady Ailyn was sitting on a chair in front of a blazing stove, warming her hands. The day had not been overly cold, but with the sun gone, air had developed a sharp bite. A steward came in a little while later with some food for her dinner which she ate in a very rapid, unladylike manner. Two months ago, she would have balked at sleeping on a simple cot with a large fur but now, after changing quickly into a warm nightdress and bedrobe, Lady Ailyn crawled under the fur gratefully and dropped off to sleep.  
The next three days were a wearisome combination of the same routine: ride, rest, eat, sleep. Lady Ailyn had asked Lord Tywin yesterday if his wound needed redressing but he brushed her off. She was starting to wonder if she was just imagining it or if he was keeping his distance from her on purpose.   
The final night they made camp, Lady Ailyn was sitting by her stove, a book hanging listlessly from her hand, her eyes unfocused. Suddenly, she heard an odd noise from the rear left hand corner of her tent. Silently, she put her book down and stood up, going for her nearby dagger. With it clenched firmly in her hand, she slowly made her way to the rear of the tent. Someone was tugging the corner fastenings loose from the outside. She drew in a breath to scream as a hand drew back the tent fabric, and then abruptly let it out as Lord Hugh poked his head inside.  
“Hugh!” she gasped, putting the dagger down, “have you gone mad? What’s wrong with the front of my tent?” she demanded in a whisper as he stepped inside and closed the flap behind him.  
“Lord Tywin has forbidden me to come to your tent,” he explained in an equally low voice, “so I ask you to forgive my unorthodox intrusion.” He glanced at the dagger she had put down and grinned, looking back at her. “And I thank you most heartily for not stabbing me.”  
She smiled and shook her head, coming closer to him so they could speak more easily. Lord Tywin’s tent was still only a few yards away.  
“He forbade you to speak with me?” she asked softly.  
“In so many words, yes,” confirmed Lord Hugh.  
“Why? He can’t be jealous; the very idea is ridiculous,” she wondered, looking off to the side.  
“That is not an emotion readily paired with the Lord of Casterly Rock I agree. But I did not come here to talk about the great lion,” said Lord Hugh quietly, moving a little closer to her.  
“We will reach King’s Landing tomorrow and I imagine there will be a great deal of bloodshed,” began Lord Hugh, watching her face.  
She nodded, looking worried.  
“I wanted to tell you that, while the conditions of our time together have been less than idyllic, I have still enjoyed your company,” Lord Hugh said warmly, his blue eyes twinkling in the candlelight.  
She smiled.  
“And I yours, Lord Hugh. You have been very good to me. I should like to think you a friend at court, when the fighting is done,” Ailyn replied.  
“I shall be your nearest and dearest if you wish,” he offered with a boyish grin.  
“And likely my only friend. You forget, I am still a hostage to the Lannisters,” Lady Ailyn cautioned, glancing in the direction of Lord Tywin’s tent.  
“That condition is only temporary; he can’t keep you prisoner forever,” murmured Lord Hugh dismissively.  
Lady Ailyn looked at him, wanting to believe him.  
His gaze softened further and he was about to speak when Lord Tywin’s voice rumbled somewhere close to her tent.  
“Go!” she mouthed to Lord Hugh, frantically motioning him away with her hands.  
He spun around and slipped back to the open corner of her tent. He started doing up the fastenings when Lady Ailyn went to him and gently put her hand over his as he was tying a knot.  
“Be careful,” she whispered, looking meaningfully at him.  
“My lady?” inquired Lord Tywin just outside her tent.  
She looked fearfully over her shoulder at the entrance but Lord Tywin waited for her permission before coming in. Lady Ailyn looked back at Lord Hugh just in time to see him salute her with a smile before tying the last fastening of her tent, joining the walls together once again.   
Silently, she dashed back to her chair by the stove and picked up her book. She settled herself into a comfortable position and then said “Come.”   
Lord Tywin moved the fabric apart and stepped into her tent. He was almost too tall to stand up straight inside the tiny space.  
“Good evening, my lady,” said Lord Tywin graciously. He was still in armor with a cut of red fabric draped over one shoulder.  
“My lord. I understand we are nearing King’s Landing?” she asked.  
“We will reach the capitol tomorrow at dusk,” he confirmed, pulling his gloves on a little tighter.  
She stood up, setting the book down once again.  
“I see.”  
She waited for him to say something else as he stood there, looking at her.  
He looked away suddenly and cleared his throat.  
“I wish you to know that you have behaved with dignity and strength throughout your time here as I hope my own daughter would do in similar circumstances,” said Lord Tywin quietly, glancing up at her.  
“Thank you my lord,” Lady Ailyn replied. “My father would be proud to hear you say that.”  
“You are a credit to him,” confirmed Lord Tywin, watching her face.  
She smiled warmly at him.   
He is not usually this complimentary.   
Lord Tywin stopped speaking and Lady Ailyn wasn’t sure what to say in return.  
“Take care tomorrow, my lord. I will not be there to protect you,” she said, almost affectionately.  
His eyes narrowed for a brief moment to determine if she was making a jape but there was only honesty and concern in her countenance.  
“You have paid your debt to me. Do you still wish me well?” asked Lord Tywin curiously.  
“If I believed in prayers my lord, I would include you in them,” Lady Ailyn remarked, folding her hands in front of her.  
He had nothing to say to that. Lord Tywin seemed to be struggling with something that he couldn’t put words to. After a moment, he reached out and gently took her hand. Ailyn tensed slightly but did not pull her hand back. Tywin brushed the back of her hand with his thumb, looking down at her hand as he did so. She tried to divine the look in his eyes and could only conclude that his look was softer than usual.  
He glanced up at her and all at once, seemed to realize what he was doing. He dropped her hand and took a step back.  
“Get some sleep my lady. You have a long day ahead,” counseled Lord Tywin firmly.  
“You as well my lord,” she replied, still uneasy and confused.  
He nodded and without another word, swept out of her tent, leaving her alone, her silent questions unanswered.  
The next day he barely spoke to her, often riding beside her for an hour or more without even glancing in her direction.  
Finally, they reached the last hill that rose up above the capitol. Lady Ailyn and Lord Tywin were among the first to see King’s Landing and the harbor surrounding it. The sun had already set leaving behind bright red streaks in the sky and a slowly advancing blackness.  
“Stannis’ ships are nearly at the city!” shouted Ser Kevan, pointing at the fleet headed straight for the harbor.  
“Sound the charge! Stay here my lady,” ordered Lord Tywin, pulling on his helm. He raised a gloved fist in the air and dug his heels into this destrier, flying down the hill away from her.  
Lady Ailyn held on tightly to the reins as a sea of soldiers flowed around her, down the hill, toward the threatened city. Raena fought her, spooked by the running horses but Ailyn held her firmly in place. If she was drawn down with them, she would surely be killed.  
Finally, the thundering of hooves died down as the army rode away from her. She risked a glance back behind her and saw Lord Braxton coming up at an easy pace with a small troupe of men. It was growing very dark, the lights of King’s Landing illuminating the night almost as much as the moon that was rising.   
Lord Braxton rode up next to her and called a halt to his men.  
“My lady,” he greeted her, his tone less than respectful.  
She glanced over at him. Even with his helm on, she could see his jaw clenched and irritation flashing in his black eyes.   
“Thank you for staying with me my lord,” she ventured politely.  
He scoffed.  
“I’m not here by choice. I have proven myself in battle to Lord Tywin numerous times and yet he orders me to stay behind and play septa to his mistress,” growled Braxton indignantly.  
Lady Ailyn glared at him.  
“I am nothing of the kind Lord Braxton but I will be happy to tell Lord Tywin you called me a whore and dishonored his name,” she snapped back.  
He blanched as fear crept into the blackness of his eyes.  
“Keep a civil tongue in your head, my lord and I will see to it that you are allowed to keep it firmly attached to your shoulders,” warned Lady Ailyn looking away from him.  
In the moonlight, Ailyn could see a shimmering wall of glinting metal heading directly for another moving, metallic mass near the city. When they met, there was a terrible clashing, grinding sound followed by shouting and screaming. It went on for so long Lady Ailyn was about to beg Lord Braxton to move out of earshot of the fighting when suddenly, the night lit up with a blinding green light, out in the bay by Stannis’s ships.  
Ailyn felt the shockwave of the explosion even though it was miles away. Raena reared up, whinnying wildly, almost throwing her from her saddle she managed to hold on. Braxton reached over and grabbed her reins as well until she calmed down.  
“What is that?” she gasped, as most of Stannis’ fleet was consumed in a wall of green flames.  
“Wild fire,” whispered Lord Braxton fearfully, his drawn face illuminated in a sickly green glow.  
“Gods be good,” she breathed, trying not to think of all the lives that had just been snuffed out like so many candles in a strong wind. The blaze died down a little as all the ships were consumed. There was still the dull roar of fighting, the clash of metal on metal as the two armies fought each other.  
Lord Hugh is down there somewhere.   
Lady Ailyn and Lord Braxton stayed on the hill all night, tense and watchful. Slowly, the noise of war died down and then there was silence. She looked at Braxton but he didn’t acknowledge her.   
Just as the sky was beginning to lighten to grey, two riders approached them from the city. Both were wearing Lannister red.  
“Good day Lord Braxton and Lady Ailyn. I am pleased to report that the city is saved and it is safe for you to enter. If you would follow us?” the guard informed them.  
Ailyn nodded dumbly and urged Raena forward.  
Braxton shouted an order to his men and followed after her.  
“Did Lord Tywin send you to meet us?” asked Lady Ailyn as they neared the city gates.  
“Yes my lady. The Hand of the King has ordered me to bring you to the west entrance where Lord Baelish will meet you,” called the soldier over his shoulder.  
As they rode through the city streets, Ailyn glanced uneasily around. No one was stirring except soldiers. All the homes and businesses had boarded their windows and doors. The stench of filth and burned flesh assailed her nose to such a degree that Ailyn raised her hand and covered her mouth lest she be sick.  
“Lord Braxton, the other commanders and soldiers are in the barracks,” called the soldier leading them as they came upon a crossroads. Braxton nodded and motioned for his men to follow him as he moved his horse off to the left branch of the street.  
After a final curve in the street, the red walls of the Palace rose up before them. They went around the right side of the magnificent structure to a small entryway. There was a man with black hair in long, fine robes waiting for them.  
Lady Ailyn dismounted less than gracefully as her legs nearly buckled under the strain of standing after sitting awkwardly on a horse all night.  
“Greetings my Lady Ailyn,” said a voice beside her as she turned away from her horse.  
A pair of very intelligent blue eyes were studying her.  
“I am Lord Petyr Baelish at your service. Allow me to take you to your chambers my lady, you must be exhausted,” offered the man, extending an arm to her. There was something obsequious and sly about his eyes and mouth that put Lady Ailyn on her guard but she took his arm anyway, leaning on him as they slowly ascended the stairs.  
“Thank you for taking the time to meet me Lord Baelish. I’m sure you have many more important matters to attend to,” said Lady Ailyn as she bit back a groan of pain on the last stair.  
“I was given to understand that seeing you safely to your room was of paramount importance, according to Lord Tywin,” replied Lord Baelish.  
“He is well then?” she asked as they turned down a long hall way.  
“As well as he ever was, my lady” Lord Baelish reassured her.  
“And…you don’t happen to know if Lord Hugh Elden has survived?” asked Lady Ailyn, trying not to sound too anxious.  
“I am not aware of his presence at court yet my lady, but the court is only just reassemlbing itself after last night’s attack,” answered Baelish smoothly, steering her up another flight of stairs.  
Her legs were screaming with pain, and even her wound ached.  
“You will be staying in the Tower of the Hand as a guest of Lord Tywin’s my lady. I do apologize for the lengthy walk. You will not be disturbed for the next few days while you recover from your ordeal,” Lord Baelish informed her.  
Finally, they reached a large, oak door which a guard opened for them. Two maids were waiting just on the inside of the door. They curtsyed to Lady Ailyn as she stepped inside the room.  
“This is Lisi and Myra,” introduced Lord Baelish, indicating first the tall girl with black hair then the shorter, younger one with blonde hair respectively. “Does my lady require a Maester? I have heard that you were wounded,” pried Lord Baelish, his eyes flicking down her body.  
“No, I am well enough. Thank you for your assistance, Lord Baelish. You’ve been most helpful,” nodded Lady Ailyn, dismissing him.  
“I always endeavor to please, my lady,” he said silkily. “Then I will leave you in the capable hands of your maids.”   
Lord Baelish bowed low to her and then swept out.  
“I need a hot bath and some food please,” requested Ailyn shrugging out of her cloak. Lisi took her cloak while Myra said, “A bath has been drawn my lady and food is on the way.”  
As the adrenaline of the evening wore off, Ailyn slumped under the sudden weight of exhaustion. Numbly, she allowed her new maids to undress her, bathe her and serve her. They both had numerous questions for her about life in a soldier’s camp but she silenced them with a tired wave of the hand. When she was no longer hungry, Ailyn moved weakly toward the sumptuous bed and fell into it. She was asleep before her maids finished tucking in the bedding around her.


	13. Adjustments

Lady Ailyn awoke from a dreamless sleep to find that it was dark in her chamber.   
“Lisi? Myra?” she called, sitting up in bed and wiping her eyes.  
Both girls came in with candles after a moment and lit several by her bed.  
“What day is it?” asked Lady Ailyn.  
“It is a little after supper the same day you arrived here my lady,” answered Lisi.  
“Still the same day?” Ailyn whispered in disbelief. She felt as though she had slept for an age.  
“Is my lady hungry?” asked Myra.  
“No I am going back to sleep. I would however, like to know the whereabouts of Lord Hugh by tomorrow morning,” requested Lady Ailyn, lying back on her pillows.  
“I will make inquiries my lady,” replied Myra, curtsying and blowing out the candles.

The second time Ailyn woke, it was bright in her chamber despite the heavy hangings around her bed. The alluring smell of food mixed with the light floral scent of a hot bath drew her out of bed.  
Both girls came in and served her then helped her bathe again.  
“Have you found out where Lord Hugh is?” asked Lady Ailyn as Lisi pulled the strings of her corset tighter.  
“Yes my lady. He has his own chambers in the main palace,” replied Myra. “He was wounded in battle and has taken to his bed.”  
Ailyn looked over at Myra in alarm.  
“Is it serious?” she asked, pointing to a dress of deep navy and silver in her wardrobe.  
“Maester Pycelle believes he will heal given time,” Myra assured her, selecting a thick, silver necklace for Lady Ailyn.  
Ailyn nodded and urged Lisi to hurry.  
Lisi looked up at her in surprise.  
“Surely my lady knows that she is forbidden to leave her room?” asked the girl as she finished adjusting the dress on Ailyn’s shoulders.  
Lady Ailyn stopped moving and focused all her attention on Lisi.  
“Forbidden?” she asked, her tone leaning towards imperiousness.  
Lisi flinched a little under Ailyn’s gaze and glanced quickly at Myra who had also stopped what she was doing.  
“The Hand of the King ordered it my lady,” whispered Myra, moving to stand near Lisi.  
“I see. Am I allowed to send a raven to my father?” asked Lady Ailyn, motioning for Myra to put the necklace on her.  
Lisi nodded.  
“Good. I will send one immediately,” she decided and Lisi moved quickly to fetch a bird.  
Myra curled and put up Lady Ailyn’s hair. It was much shorter than any noblewoman’s was likely to be at court, so putting it up would hide its length for now. Myra started to twist it over her head in the southern fashion that was popular at court but Ailyn stopped her and requested that she put it up in a simple bun, in the style of Willow Glen. Myra complied without comment though there was something like disapproval in her blue eyes.  
Lady Ailyn wrote a quick but loving letter to her father assuring him of her health and well being. She asked after her brother Mardyn and to let him know that Din, her maidservant from Harrenhal, was on her way to Willow Glen.  
By the time she had finished, Lisi had returned with a raven perched on her fingers. Ailyn put the letter in its leg carrier herself and then released the bird from her balcony. She watched it until it was out of sight and then looked down at the city below. The same unpleasant smell from the evening before was still present but not quite so pungent. The streets were a hive of activity and out in the bay, several ships were making there way out of the harbor to survey the damage from the night before.  
Lady Ailyn went back inside and stood before her mirror for a moment. She had lost weight since leaving Willow Glen and even though she felt rested, there were still dark patches beneath her grey eyes. Otherwise, she looked as though she belonged at court.  
“Myra, come with me. You will take me to Lord Hugh’s chambers,” she ordered, moving to the doors to leave.  
“My lady! Please, it is forbidden,” insisted Myra, now very afraid.  
“The city is safe. There is no reason for me to be confined to my chambers. Come,” she beckoned, opening her doors.  
Two Lannister guards turned to face her in surprise.  
“Good morning my lady,” said the taller of the two, making a short bow.  
“Good morning Ser. Excuse me,” she replied moving to walk past them.  
The guard who hadn’t spoken put out a hand to detain her.  
“Please my lady. We have orders to make sure you remain in your chamber,” asserted the soldier, keeping his hand out but not touching her.  
Lady Ailyn stopped moving and looked from one to the other.  
“Were you with Lord Tywin’s garrison when I arrived in his camp?” asked Lady Ailyn curiously.  
“Yes my lady, we both were,” replied the first guard.  
“Good. Then you will remember what Lord Tywin said about any soldier who laid a hand on me,” she reminded them.  
The soldiers looked at each other warily and then back at her.  
“Those were the orders he gave while we were in camp, they were not for King’s Landing,” reasoned the second guard.  
“Are you willing to bet your hands on that?” she continued taking a small step forward.  
“My lady, I…” began the second guard but she cut him off.  
“Believe what you like but in order to stop me, you are going to have to use force and that, if nothing else, is forbidden,” she said, moving past them.  
“Myra come, lead the way,” she demanded.  
Myra eyes were wide with fear but she moved past the guards and led Lady Ailyn down a long hallway and down several flights of stairs. The guards followed the women but at a distance. Other soldiers were moving about the palace as well as many noblemen and women that Lady Ailyn didn’t recognize. Some looked at her; most didn’t.  
Finally, they arrived at a heavy oak door. Myra knocked and asked for entry for her mistress.  
A young man with a fresh face and very messy brown curls answered the door.  
“Good morning Ser. I am Lady Ailyn. I wish to see Lord Hugh if he is well enough to receive guests,” she requested.  
“Of course, my lady. If you’ll wait a moment,” he said, stepping back into the room. There was a short, muted conversation and then the young man was back at the door.  
“He will see you my lady. Please come in,” offered the squire with a warm smile, opening the door wide for Lady Ailyn.   
“Thank you Ser…?”  
“Ser Hunter, my lady.”  
She let him lead her through a small entryway where she left Myra, who was glancing nervously at the door. The Lannister guards who had followed them waited outside.  
The room was airy and sunny, filled with comfortable looking chairs and long tables. Even though the day was warm, a fire was still blazing in the hearth. Thick red curtains draped the bed frame, obscuring the occupant from view. Ser Hunter led her around the bed and announced her to Lord Hugh. Lady Ailyn moved around the bed to see Lord Hugh, propped up on a small mountain of pillows. He wore a plain white shirt which accented the white in his hair and made his pallor all the more ghostly.  
“Lord Hugh!” gasped Lady Ailyn, coming to sit gently on the bed beside him.  
“Lady Ailyn, you look more beautiful than ever,” he breathed, the twinkle in his blue eyes as bright as ever.  
“What happened?” she asked as Ser Hunter moved away from them.  
A small shadow passed over Lord Hugh’s face and then was gone again.  
“I took a sword to the side my lady,” he replied, placing his hand over the bulge of a bandage beneath his shirt.  
Lady Ailyn frowned with worry and put her hand over his.  
“Pycelle has been here several times. He assures me that all will be well in no time,” insisted Lord Hugh, slipping his hand out from underneath hers and patting it affectionately.  
“But something is troubling you?” she asked quietly, looking at him earnestly.  
Lord Hugh started to speak and then stopped, glancing around his room. Ser Hunter had stepped out, leaving them alone. Nevertheless, when Lord Hugh spoke his voice was barely above a whisper.  
“I didn’t see who stabbed me but I twisted around as I fell. I saw only Lannister men nearby,” he said softly.  
Lady Ailyn took in a slow breath as the weight of what he was saying sank in.  
“Are you suggesting…” she whispered back but Lord Hugh shook his head and held up his hand.  
“I am suggesting nothing. But I am slightly more concerned for my safety than I would be otherwise. And for yours,” breathed Lord Hugh, meeting her worried grey eyes.  
“You should leave King’s Landing,” she insisted softly but he shook his head.  
“No, I never run from a fight. Nor would I leave you here,” replied Lord Hugh firmly.  
“I am in no greater danger here than I was in the middle of Lord Tywin’s camp on the battlefield,” insisted Lady Ailyn although she could tell from the disappointed look in Lord Hugh’s eyes that she was mistaken.  
“You were much safer out there my lady,” he whispered again.  
“In that case, perhaps I should go back to my room and put on my daggers,” she said thoughtfully, glancing back at the door.  
“You would be wise to carry a blade of some kind but keep it hidden if you can,” counseled Lord Hugh. “And don’t cross any of the Lannisters if you can help it.”  
Lady Ailyn was getting the distinct impression that she should be back in her room.  
“I wanted to see you,” she insisted quietly, dropping her gaze.  
“I appreciate your concern my lady but you should not come here again. There will be enough speculation over your reputation as it is. I will come to you in a few days when I am well enough to walk,” requested Lord Hugh.  
“I will send Myra with messages until you can come to me then,” she compromised.  
“I should be glad to hear from you. Now please, my lady you should return to your chambers,” Lord Hugh urged.  
Lady Ailyn nodded and rose to go.  
“Take care of yourself,” she pleaded, with a warm smile.  
“You sound like my mother,” he admonished but there was a smile playing over his lips.  
Ser Hunter saw her to the door. Myra went into the corridor first as the Lannister guards stepped aside to let her pass. Both women walked quickly and silently back to Lady Ailyn’s chambers.  
Lisi had brought some food up and unpacked several of Ailyn’s books. She seemed relieved to see them both. The maids made small talk with Lady Ailyn while she ate although her appetite was diminished again. She picked up one of her books to read but her attention kept wandering. Was Lord Hugh accusing one of his own men of stabbing him in the back? Her stomach turned at the thought. Ailyn sat for several hours in the fading sunlight of her balcony, a gentle sea breeze fluttering the sheer curtains. Her troubled thoughts were interrupted by a loud banging on her door.  
She stood up and turned to watch Myra open the door.  
“The Hand of the King requests Lady Ailyn’s presence in his chambers,” announced a guard outside.  
With a mild sense of foreboding, Lady Ailyn put the book down and swept over to the guard.  
“Lead on Ser,” she requested.  
The knight bowed and moved off to her right and then up a staircase at the end of the hall. To her surprise, they only went up one flight and then down a long hallway to a set of impressive oak doors, both with The Hand’s symbol raised in gold in the middle of the door.  
“These are the Hand’s chambers?” she asked in surprise.  
“Yes my lady. If you will excuse me, I will announce you to him,” replied the knight, knocking on the heavy door and opening it.  
The layout of their rooms triggered a warning bell in her head as the knight came back out to fetch her.  
He held the door open as she stepped inside. Lady Ailyn walked into a large, elegantly furnished room. An intricately carved hearth with a roaring fire and two accompanying chairs were off to her left. Directly in front of her was a bed large enough for four with rich crimson and gold hangings flanked by two cavernous wardrobes. There was a long table off to her right for dining, where a servant was clearing away the remains of dinner for five. Farther back on the right in front of a sweeping balcony was a large, claw footed desk piled high with papers. A soft glow from the fire and several dozen candles filled the room.  
The Hand of the King rose from his seat at the desk when she entered. He was all in black, the golden Hand pin, the symbol of his office, gleamed on his chest. Lord Tywin stood straight backed and tense as always. He did not look pleased.  
The knight bowed to his lord and then slipped silently out. Other than the servant clearing away the dinner things, another was putting away cloaks in one of the wardrobes.  
Lady Ailyn held his disapproving gaze and walked over to stand in front of his desk.  
“My Lord Hand,” she said respectfully, dipping into a perfect curtsy.  
“My lady,” was his curt reply.  
His green eyes flicked over her in the same cold, scrutinizing way he had done on the day they had met.  
“You sent for me my lord?” she prompted, growing a little apprehensive.  
Lord Tywin looked directly at her.  
“You disobeyed me,” accused the Hand of the King, a sharp edge in his voice.  
“Forgive me, my lord. With the city safe in Lannister hands, I did not see the need to be confined to my room,” she explained quietly.  
“Whether or not you see the reason for it is irrelevant.”  
Lord Tywin stalked around his desk and came to stand within a hand’s breadth of her.  
“The next time you publicly disobey me, I will have one of your maids killed,” threatened the Lord of Casterly Rock.  
Lady Ailyn blanched. His sudden coldness was frightening her.  
“That will not be necessary my lord. It will not happen again,” she vowed, trying to keep her voice from wavering.  
“See that it doesn’t,” warned the lion, taking a small step back from her but the intensity of his gaze remained unchecked.  
There was a long silence.  
Lady Ailyn was waiting for him to send her away but he made no move to do so. Instead, he appeared to be casting about for something else to say now that he had done his duty by putting her in her place.  
“How do you find your room?” he asked, aware of how clumsy the question sounded.  
Lady Ailyn almost frowned at him.  
Tywin Lannister doesn’t make small talk.   
Ailyn saw his eyes flit between his two servants with annoyance though they were being as unobtrusive as it was possible to be.  
“Very comfortable my lord, thank you. I especially like the view; is it the same as yours?” she asked, moving past him and escaping to the balcony.  
She thrust the delicate curtains aside and stepped out into the cool, night air. She came to a halt at the stone railing and drew several shallow, steadying breaths before she felt his presence at her side. King’s Landing stretched out beneath them as well as the docks and harbor.  
There was a pause and then Lord Tywin said quietly, “Since Willow Glen is on the Narrow Sea, I thought you would prefer a room with a view of the water. That it might make it… a little easier for you.”  
She risked a glance at him. His jaw was no longer clenched and his stance was less tense than it had been inside. She kept looking at him until he looked sideways at her, then she looked back out over the water.  
“You must have so many things on your mind my lord. I am deeply flattered that you would give my emotional wellbeing such consideration,” replied Lady Ailyn softly.  
“I was not able to provide you with comfortable surroundings before. Now that I can, I will,” Lord Tywin said.  
Lady Ailyn smiled to herself then looked back at him.  
“Lovely room though it is, surely I need not remain there all my waking hours?” she asked.  
“Perhaps that is too extreme a measure. You may go where you wish in the palace but under guard. I forbid you from venturing into the city, is that clear?” asked Lord Tywin sternly, turning to face her.  
“Thank you my lord,” she confirmed, nodding to him.  
He nodded back once and then looked down at the harbor. She followed his troubled gaze to the four ships in dock.  
“Are there only four?” she asked quietly.  
“Ten more are on their way from Lannisport. That should be enough to defend the city while the fleet is being rebuilt and not detract from the defense of Lannisport or Casterly Rock if Stannis or the Greyjoys get ambitious,” explained Lord Tywin.  
There was another pause.  
“Is there any news of your son?” she asked gently, unsure if the question would be a welcome one.  
Ailyn watched his jaw clench again and his eyes flash angrily.  
“No. I am starting to think he is lost,” said Lord Tywin bitterly.  
“Someone would have told you if he were dead. Your enemies and allies both would be hard pressed to keep the news from you. He is still alive my lord. You will get him back,” she said reassuringly.  
He flinched away from her optimism.   
“I will believe that when I see him with my own eyes,” Tywin retorted gruffly.  
She smiled a little sadly at him and then turned back to his room.  
“You have much to do. I should not keep you from it any longer,” she offered, moving to go but he put a hand on her arm to stop her. She looked back at him in surprise. He let go of her immediately.  
He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Even in the privacy of his own balcony, Lord Tywin would not speak his mind. In the end, he bid her ‘good night’ and turned away before she wished him the same. Lady Ailyn left him standing alone on his balcony. She walked back into the room and over to the doors. One of his servants opened it for her and she went back to her room.  
Lisi and Myra nearly ran up to her.  
“Oh my lady! We were afraid you wouldn’t come back!” gasped Lisi.  
“Was he angry with you?” pried Myra.  
“He was displeased but we have reached a new arrangement that is agreeable to both of us. I am not hurt,” she insisted as both girls looked her up and down.  
They pestered her with questions for a little while longer and then she dismissed them both for the evening. There was something she wanted to do and she didn’t want to be seen doing it.  
After Myra had closed the side door, Lady Ailyn instantly went over to the wall on her left and began inspecting it. She ran her hands over the smooth stone, walking behind a large tapestry and a column. Ailyn felt around by the wooden headboard of her bed and behind the wardrobe. She went inside her wardrobe and knocked on the back panel. Lady Ailyn made her way slowly around the palace-side wall and just as she was beginning to think she had made a false assumption, she found it.  
In an alcove near the rear of her room, there was a small outcropping in the stone which moved when Lady Ailyn pressed her hand against it. A hidden door swung noiselessly open revealing a black void. Silently, Lady Ailyn lit a small lantern and brought it over to the newly discovered doorway. With the light from the lantern, Ailyn could see a well made, stone staircase spiraling up into the darkness. She didn’t have to walk up it to know where it led.  
Lady Ailyn sighed to herself.  
“Perhaps the view of the sea is not the only reason you chose this room for me, my lord,” she muttered softly.


	14. The Queen

The next few days passed very uneventfully for Lady Ailyn. She did not mention the secret door to her maids or bring it up to Lord Tywin. Ailyn explored the palace without hindrance from anyone though she kept her word and avoided Lord Hugh’s room. According to his squire, he was healing well and was able to walk around under his own power but that was all Maester Pycelle recommended for exertions.   
Yesterday, she had walked past a small cluster of well born women who were taking their leisure in the gardens. Lady Ailyn did not recognize any of them but she stopped and curtsied politely. Half of them inclined their heads to her but did not speak and the other half looked affronted at her mere presence. Ailyn moved past them and tried not to listen to the flurry of audible whispers that chased after her.  
“…the nerve of the girl…”  
“…must be talented in bed…”  
“…lucrative conquest…”  
Ailyn rolled her eyes and walked quickly away from them. She had wanted to believe Lord Tywin when he told her she needn’t concern herself with her reputation while in camp with him. Perhaps his was safe; hers was not.   
She was just finishing breakfast about a week after her arrival in King’s Landing when there was a knock at her door. Myra rushed to answer it while Lisi cleared away the table. Lady Ailyn rose to receive the visitor. Myra opened the door and a Lannister guard entered.  
“Her Grace the Queen Regent requests your presence in her solar, my lady,” announced the soldier.  
Lisi shot her the same look as when the Hand had summoned her for the first time.  
Lady Ailyn nodded and moved to follow the guard. Ailyn’s own guards followed her as well. As she walked, she tried to steady her vibrating nerves. If half the things she had heard about the Queen were true, she had best be on her guard.   
Lady Ailyn was shown into a sunny, airy room with many sheer billowing fabrics and comfortable seating. Several Lannister guards were present in the room and made no move to leave when Lady Ailyn entered. The Queen was standing in the wide opening to her balcony with her back to the room. She had an elegant gown of rich crimson edged in shimmering gold. The light caught her golden hair making it shine against the dark fabric of her dress.  
“Lady Ailyn, Your Grace,” proclaimed the guard, who then bowed and quickly left the room. Ailyn’s own guards were not permitted entry.  
Lady Ailyn stood in the center of the room and waited for the Queen to acknowledge her. After a moment, Queen Cersei turned around and fixed Lady Ailyn with a superior stare.  
“Your Grace,” said Lady Ailyn respectfully, dipping a curtsy, “how may I be of service?”  
Cersei did not speak but came to stand before Lady Ailyn, still looking her over the way a lord looks at a horse he intends to purchase.  
“I was expecting you to be prettier,” said the Queen after a tense moment.  
“We cannot all be as lucky in our beauty as you, Your Grace,” replied Lady Ailyn sincerely.  
“Don’t flatter me. I’m not paying you,” snapped the Queen, beginning to pace around Lady Ailyn.  
Lady Ailyn did not speak, meeting the Queen’s sharp gaze when she was able. Cersei had Lord Tywin’s pale green eyes and Ailyn couldn’t help but feel that she was being judged by both of them now.  
“Who do you think you are?” hissed the Queen, still stalking in a circle around Ailyn.  
Lady Ailyn took a breath. She had watched Lord Tywin pose enigmatic questions like this to several hapless banner men when he wanted to embarrass them.  
“I am Lady Ailyn of House Greystone, keeper of the seat of Willow Glen,” she answered with as much pride as she dared.  
“Whores don’t have titles,” the Queen warned, coming to a halt before Lady Ailyn, staring her down.  
“Forgive me. Your Grace must have been misinformed. I have not shared a bed with a man since my husband died,” corrected Ailyn gently, glancing at the Queen’s smoldering glare.  
Queen Cersei scoffed in disbelief.  
“My lord father kept you in his tent for over a month on the battlefield. You expect me to believe, in all that time, that he never laid a hand on you?” demanded the Queen.  
Lady Ailyn opened her mouth to answer and quickly closed it. She was getting the feeling that nothing she could say would make the Queen believe her.  
“He carried me once when I was wounded, he helped me on and off my horse and up a staircase, Your Grace. Other than that, no; Lord Tywin never touched me,” was her careful lie.  
The Queen made another unladylike noise and began to pace around her again.  
“He has sent for you nearly every day he has been in King’s Landing. Clearly you are performing some sort of service for him,” prodded the Queen nastily.  
So Lisi and Myra belong to the Queen.  
“I listen to him, Your Grace, and offer my opinion when he wishes it,” supplied Lady Ailyn.  
“Why would my father be interested in anything you have to say?” snapped the Queen.  
Lady Ailyn remained silent, unsure of what to say.  
“I suppose you are less of a threat than a woman who can bear children,” mused the Queen aloud, when she did not answer. Lady Ailyn winced, trying not to let the Queen see how much that barb stung. “Perhaps being barren makes you an ideal mistress, if my lord father needs one.”  
“Please Your Grace, Lord Tywin has not…” began Lady Ailyn defensively but the Queen overrode her.  
“Silence. Save your breath,” interrupted Cersei waspishly.  
“I am merely trying to defend my honor, Your Grace,” retorted Lady Ailyn, aware that she was rapidly losing grasp of her patience.  
The Queen opened her mouth, a sneer already on her lips when Ailyn interrupted her.  
“Has Lord Tywin himself told you that I’m his mistress?” demanded Lady Ailyn.  
Cersei’s green eyes narrowed.  
“How dare you interrupt me?” the Queen hissed indignantly. “You seem very anxious to defend yourself.”  
“And Your Grace seems very anxious to believe your lord father is a dishonorable man,” Lady Ailyn threw back before she could stop herself.  
The heat from the Queen’s glare would’ve melted part of the Wall.  
“Have you sent ravens since you’ve been in King’s Landing?” demanded Cersei.  
“Yes I have sent two to my lord father, letting him know that I am well,” answered Lady Ailyn, taken aback by the Queen’s sudden change of tack.  
“And you have had these…discussions with my father before you sent the letters?” snipped Cersei, coming to stand very close to Lady Ailyn.  
“Several of them yes,” replied Lady Ailyn, growing more worried by the second.  
“Then you could be giving your lord father information about the Lannister army,” concluded the Queen smoothly.  
“I’m not!” cried Lady Ailyn.  
“Can you prove that you haven’t?” the Queen plowed on.  
“No, but surely…” began Lady Ailyn, glancing nervously at the Queen’s guards.  
“Then I order your arrest under suspicion of treason. Take her to a cell,” the Queen commanded, carelessly flicking a hand to her guards.  
Two Lannister men moved to obey their Queen.  
“Your Grace please! I have done no such thing!” insisted Lady Ailyn, panic rising in her stomach as the soldiers advanced on her.  
But Queen Cersei turned away from her with a wicked smile on her pretty face. The two men grasped Lady Ailyn’s arms as she continued to protest her innocence.  
“Someone may be down in a few hours to take your head,” announced Queen Cersei dismissively, sitting down at her desk, a triumphant look on her face.  
The two soldiers gripped her arms to the edge of pain and dragged her to the door. They were preceded by two more guards who opened the doors to the Queen’s chambers and drew their swords. Ailyn’s guards looked up in surprise. They didn’t have time to pull their swords before the Queen’s men ran them through.  
Ailyn screamed as her guards fell to the ground. The soldiers marched her through the corridors and then down a long hall to the entrance to the dungeons. Just as they were about to go through the doors, Lady Ailyn caught sight of Lord Baelish staring at her in shock. She didn’t have time to call out to him before she was escorted down a dim staircase. Ailyn could barely make out black iron doors to her left as the guards kept moving her along a darkened hallway, torches sputtering on the wall. Somewhere ahead, a man was shouting for water. Another was simply screaming. Lady Ailyn was shaking now as a prison guard pulled open a heavy door to a world of blackness.  
Lady Ailyn fell roughly to the ground as the guards pushed her in and then slammed the door. She lay on the cold, damp stones and tried to catch her breath as the darkness washed over her. She couldn’t see the ground inches from her face. Ailyn was dimly aware that she was making soft whimpers and clenched her teeth against them. She pushed herself up on her hands and slowly got to her feet. There was a sliver of light underneath her door and the small opening at eye level. She walked to the door with her hands out and once she was satisfied that she had found it, began to move off to her right. One hand on the wall, the other out in front of her in case there was an obstruction in the way. Ailyn wanted to get away from the door, where she could still hear the vague shouts from other prisoners. She couldn’t listen to that if she was going to keep her nerve. Ailyn kept blinking rapidly as if that would somehow drive away the blackness clouding her vision. Eventually, she found the corner of two walls amidst a small pile of rubble. Lady Ailyn slid to the ground and wrapped her arms protectively around herself, pulling her legs up to keep warm in the dank cell.  
After a few moments, listening to the silence, Ailyn gave in to her emotions and began to cry. She wept for her family, she feared she would never see again; for Gana, her maid and best friend; for her home. She wept for the blight on her honor that she was likely to die under. She wept until she was empty and then simply sat in the darkness, despairing.   
Ailyn fought against hopes of being rescued. That perhaps Lord Baelish would tell Lord Tywin what the Queen had done and he would come for her as he had the day she was wounded. Would he cross his family for her? She doubted it. Though she was usually on her own most of the time, Lady Ailyn felt a crushing sense of isolation and abandonment.   
She sat in the darkness and listened to the uneven splashes of water, trickling down somewhere off to her right. Ailyn licked her dry lips and thought back to the happy days with her husband. Lord Darren had never had quite enough polish to please her father but his love for her had been strong and true. Lady Ailyn tried to remember what it felt like to have his arms around her as she hugged herself. In the last four years since he had been gone, Lady Ailyn had never wanted him so badly. He would have helped her to be brave. Ailyn wiped her wet cheeks on her sleeve and closed her eyes. Perhaps she would see him again soon.  
The insistent dripping of water was the only way she knew that time was passing in the stillness. She was definitely thirsty now and her stomach was starting to ache. Time slithered past her in the inky blackness as she waited. And waited. And waited.   
Suddenly, even in the rear corner of her cell, the sounds of clashing swords reached her ears. Men were shouting and there was a loud bang against her cell door. She gasped and curled herself into a tighter ball on the ground. Then, all at once, there was silence again. Ailyn waited, barely breathing.  
Her cell door swung open and blinding, golden light came streaming in as guards entered her cell with torches. She winced and shut her eyes against the harsh light, putting her hands in front of her face.  
“She’s there my lord,” said a voice.  
A solitary set of footsteps strode toward her.  
She put her hands out in surrender.   
“Please…please don’t…” she begged, her eyes tightly closed.  
A strong pair of hands clasped her wrists and tried to help her to her feet.  
“Lady Ailyn, are you hurt?” asked the strained voice of the Hand of the King.  
But Lady Ailyn was too scared to make a coherent reply.  
“Please…forgive me…I can’t see,” she whimpered, ashamed of how weak she sounded. She stood shakily on her feet.  
“Take those torches out of here! Wait by the door,” ordered Lord Tywin, still holding onto Ailyn’s wrists.  
Gradually, the bright light faded away and Ailyn squinted as her eyes adjusted again. Lord Tywin stood directly before her though she couldn’t see his face, only the outline of his head and shoulders.  
“Please, whatever offense I have given... I didn’t mean to…” Ailyn continued fearfully.  
Lord Tywin pressed her arms back to her sides then gently cupped her face in both his hands, bringing her closer to him.  
“Are you hurt?” he asked again in a slow, urgent whisper as though he were addressing a child.  
Ailyn managed to shake her head against his hands. She felt the tension go out of his hands and a soft breath of relief pass over her.  
“Stop cowering. You are stronger than that,” he said firmly as she tried to get a grip on herself.  
Lady Ailyn forced herself to stop trembling and took a shaky breath.  
“Are you going to have me killed?” she whispered, as he took his hands away from her face and rested them on her shoulders.  
“No. You are in no danger, my lady. The Queen has made a mistake,” Lord Tywin informed her.  
Ailyn breathed a long sigh in relief and before she knew what she was doing, she brought her hands up and leaned forward to rest her head and hands on his chest. The fabric of his tunic was coarse against her cheek but she could feel the warmth beneath. Lord Tywin stiffened as she leaned on him but when she shuddered, from cold and waning fear, he wrapped one arm protectively around her and gently held her head against his chest with his other hand.  
“I swore to protect you, Lady Ailyn. I didn’t think it would have to be from my own family,” growled Lord Tywin quietly near the top of her head.  
“The Queen was just trying to do the same for you, my lord,” murmured Ailyn, reveling in the sudden warmth that surrounded her. “She is as single-minded as you.”  
“She will be made aware of her mistake. Come, this is no place for a lady,” urged Lord Tywin, reluctantly letting go of her.  
Lady Ailyn stood up straight and away from him, wiping her eyes and nose on her sleeve.  
“Take my hand,” requested the Lord of Casterly Rock, holding it out to her. She took it firmly in her own and picked up her soiled dress with the other.  
He led her to the doorway where she hesitated, turning away from the light of the torches, blinking at Lord Tywin’s side. He stepped through the doorway first, and then helped her through as well. Though the brightness of the torches reduced most of the men present to dark blurs, Lady Ailyn was able to make out the twisted bodies of the men who had brought her to her cell. There was another small pile of something near them which she couldn’t focus on. She strained in the light and then realized with a jolt that they were Lannister gloves, with hands still inside them.  
The Lion keeps his promises.   
She gasped softly and looked away, moving a little closer to Lord Tywin.  
“Come,” he requested, walking her over to the stone staircase.  
Ailyn was still squinting from the light of the torches and stopped when they reached the bottom of the stairs.  
“I’m sorry my lord, I’m afraid I still can’t see,” she said quietly.  
“Close your eyes. I will lead you,” commanded Lord Tywin, putting an arm firmly around her waist and taking her hand again.  
Lady Ailyn blinked up at him questioningly.  
“Trust me,” he murmured, looking at her.  
She searched his face for a moment and then closed her eyes obediently. Ailyn moved with him and took each step as he did. She didn’t falter and his arm around her never wavered.  
“How did you know I was here?” Ailyn asked after a moment, turning her head a little to the side as she spoke.  
“Lord Baelish informed me that you had been taken to the dungeons on the Queen’s orders,” he replied.  
Ailyn nodded and was silent.  
“Nothing like this will ever happen again my lady, you have my word,” the Hand of the King assured her.  
“Don’t worry my lord, my father will not hear of this from me,” Lady Ailyn said, knowing that was what he wished to hear.  
Lord Tywin glanced at her as they walked.  
“You have endured much without telling your father,” he observed.  
“When the alternative is bloody war, I am content to absorb misfortunes but I do have limits my lord,” Lady Ailyn replied, raising her chin a little.  
The palace was much darker in the evening and Lady Ailyn had no difficulty seeing her way once they were out of the dungeons. Tywin removed his arm from her waist but kept a firm hold on her hand for which she was grateful.   
They walked in silence to her chamber which felt abominably far away. Her stomach ached and she licked her dry lips, wincing as she swallowed.   
Finally, they reached her door which Lord Tywin promptly opened and led her inside. To her relief, a large fire was crackling in her hearth though her maids were no where to be seen.  
“Find her maids,” barked Tywin to one of his men as he led her over to the fire. The other guards stayed outside and shut her door, leaving them alone. When he let go of her hand, wrapped her arms around herself, trying not to shiver. It felt like the damp from the dungeons had worked its way into her bones. Lord Tywin picked up a nearby blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, stepping in close to do so. He urged her to sit and she complied easily, her legs ready to give out from exhaustion.  
“Water,” she whispered feebly.  
Lord Tywin located a carafe on a side table and poured a large goblet for her. She drained the glass in noisy gulps and gave it back to him. He set it down and then pulled up a nearby chair to sit with her.  
“It seems I am in your debt again, my lord,” she murmured ruefully, looking up at him with a small smile.  
But Lord Tywin was not amused.  
“You owe me nothing my lady. My daughter has been very disappointing of late,” grumbled Tywin, looking into the flames.  
Lady Ailyn was about to speak when the Lannister guard reappeared from the servants entrance with Lisi and Myra in tow.  
“Fetch some food and hot water for a bath,” ordered Lord Tywin and with frightened looks at Lady Ailyn, both girls hurried to comply. The guard stepped out of the room and her maids disappeared to fulfill their tasks.  
“What reason did the Queen give for imprisoning you?” asked Lord Tywin, when they were alone again.  
“She was under the impression that, as your mistress, I was gleaning information from you about the Lannister movements in the war and sending them back to my father, who was passing them on to the Starks,” Ailyn told him, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders.  
“Your family has not taken sides,” said Lord Tywin, frowning.  
“The Queen feels differently,” muttered Lady Ailyn.  
The Lord of Casterly Rock was silent, drawing in and angry breath and letting it out slowly.  
“She accused you of being my mistress?” he asked quietly, looking back at her.  
“Her Grace used a less agreeable term,” Ailyn supplied.  
Lord Tywin looked away from her again, baring his teeth.  
“I was anticipating this sort of treatment my lord. The court will always need something to gossip about. You can’t murder them all, no matter how much of an improvement it would be,” said Lady Ailyn with a small smile, watching him.  
She was rewarded with an understanding glance and the biggest hint of a smile on the lion’s face she had yet seen. Then, his look changed into something she couldn’t define.  
“I must go,” announced Lord Tywin quietly, rising to his feet.  
She nodded and reached out for his hand. He paused, watching her as she drew it to her lips and gently kissed the back of his hand.  
“Thank you,” she whispered warmly, looking up at him.  
Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and touched her cheek lightly with his fingertips. Ailyn closed her eyes and pressed his hand flat against her cheek, leaning into it. She didn’t care that the hand was his; all she wanted was the contact its reassuring warmth. Reluctantly, Lord Tywin drew his hand away after a moment and stepped back from her.  
“You will rest tomorrow,” he said quietly. It was not a question.  
She nodded and watched him turn to go as Myra came back in with supper.  
Lord Tywin walked out without a backward glance and pulled her door closed behind him. He stood there a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists when a polite cough off to his right drew his attention.  
“Your guests are assembled my lord Hand,” his steward informed him, standing aside.  
Lord Tywin nodded and strode purposefully back to his chamber where he met seven pairs of questioning eyes.  
The Queen met his fierce gaze and then promptly lowered her eyes, staring in sullen silence at the floor.  
Tyrion, despite the gash across his face, looked alert and curious.  
Lord Baelish and Varys had their usual respectfully blank expressions.  
Maester Pycelle hunched a little lower in a bow and Bronn, the Lord Commander, watched him warily.  
Ser Kevan had concern etched into his countenance.  
Tywin Lannister walked past them all, then turned and stood staring down at them.   
“Lady Ailyn is a hostage of war and therefore, has our protection until a suitable trade can be arranged. I’m sure Ser Jaime would agree that now is not the time to set a precedent for murdering hostages without cause,” growled Lord Tywin, glaring pointedly at his daughter.  
“But she…” Cersei began to protest but her father silenced her.  
“Since you allowed the execution of Lord Eddard and managed to lose one of his daughters, it is clear you are not capable of making state decisions,” observed Lord Tywin icily.  
“I wasn’t…” snapped Cersei but she grew silent when Lord Tywin advanced on her.  
“Nor do you have any influence over King Joffrey which makes you useless,” Lord Tywin continued coming to stand over the Queen.  
Cersei seethed but remained silent.  
“Now, if while Lady Ailyn is residing in the palace she is molested again,” began the Hand of the King, looking from the Queen, to Tyrion, to the Lord Commander, “or comes down with a sudden, mysterious illness,” his eyes flicked to Maester Pycelle, “or disappears” continued Tywin looking from Varys to Baelish, “I will hold all of you accountable as one.”  
There was a general outcry from all present which the Lord of Casterly Rock silenced with another piercing glare.  
He looked at Cersei first.  
“I will send you back to Casterly Rock where you will remain until I find a suitable husband for you,” threatened Lord Tywin.   
Cersei was practically spitting with rage.  
“The same goes for you Tyrion,” snapped Tywin, barely paying attention to him.  
“I’m not sure you could find me a suitable husband,” remarked Tyrion dryly.  
The lion threw a look at Tyrion which wiped the smile from his face.  
“As for the rest of you, your heads will adorn the city walls as a testament to the mistake of disobedience,” warned Lord Tywin sternly.  
No one mentioned that the finger of blame wouldn’t point to Ser Kevan.  
“Now get out, all of you,” barked the Hand, sending them away with a steely glare.   
Everyone present moved to leave except Ser Kevan. When they had gone, he turned to face his brother.  
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Ser Kevan looking pointedly at his sibling.  
“I’m taking precautionary measures against that pile of scheming…” began Lord Tywin but Ser Kevan interrupted.  
“You threatened to banish your children from court and murder your entire small council for the sake of one woman,” persisted Ser Kevan.  
“I am not doing it for her, Kevan, I’m doing it for what she represents. We cannot allow another powerful family to turn against us,” explained Lord Tywin pouring himself a cup of wine.  
“There is an easy solution to that my lord,” commented Ser Kevan, pouring one as well.  
Lord Tywin narrowed his eyes.  
“I have been your brother long enough to know that you were plotting her future to your advantage the moment she walked into our camp. Ser Jaime is forbidden to marry which leaves Tyrion,” observed Ser Kevan bluntly.  
Lord Tywin turned away from his brother after a moment.  
“That was before I knew her. Tyrion will need to wed the Stark girl to try and placate their animosity toward us,” Lord Tywin said.   
He paused, and then added: “I would not waste a woman like her on Tyrion.”  
“Is Lancel still confined to a bed?” asked Lord Tywin, turning to Ser Kevan again.  
Ser Kevan looked away as a worried expression crossed his face.  
“He is in no condition to marry, my lord,” he replied after a moment.  
“Perhaps one of our cousins’ children?” suggested Ser Kevan but Lord Tywin went to sit at his desk, setting the wine goblet down next to several letters and shook his head.  
Ser Kevan was silent for a moment and then said quietly, “If you want her for yourself…”  
“Lord Tywin flashed his brother a look.   
“Kevan,” he warned.  
“You needn’t marry her,” finished Ser Kevan.  
“I will never take a mistress. I do not have our father’s weakness,” snapped Lord Tywin, irritated at the suggestion.  
Ser Kevan put his wine down and said softly, “You’ve mourned Joanna for thirty years Tywin. I don’t think she would have wanted you to spend the rest of your life in solitude.”  
“Go, Kevan.” Lord Tywin’s voice was raw and there was a black, haunted look in his eyes.  
“My lord,” bowed Ser Kevan respectfully, leaving his brother alone with his thoughts.  
Lord Tywin finished his wine and went out onto his balcony. He stood for a long time, alone in the dark, listening to the waves from the Narrow Sea.


	15. Tyrion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ailyn meets Tyrion

Lady Ailyn was walking along a soft path in her gardens when she noticed a subtle shift in the lavender scented air around her. All at once, the birds, insects and animals that make up nature’s symphony, ceased. The wind stopped blowing and a suffocating silence surrounded her. The hanging vines on the willow trees stilled and even the gentle gush of the nearby stream seemed muted. Ailyn looked around nervously and noticed an advancing black cloud on the horizon. As she watched, it drew nearer and nearer, blotting out everything in its wake and leaving behind a dark emptiness. As it moved across the stream toward her, she thought she could make out shapes in the blackness, faceless creatures made of unending night.   
Lady Ailyn gasped and took several hurried steps backwards, fighting the urge to bolt. Several brown rabbits bounded past her in terror and overhead, a small group of red swallows beat their tiny wings to get away from the dying of the light. Ailyn grabbed her skirts and spun on her heel to run but froze as a golden lion ran past her towards the blackness. She turned to watch the beast which stopped several yards in front of her and roared. Blinding golden light poured from its mouth as its roar reverberated around her. She threw her arms over her eyes and waited for the noise to stop.  
As suddenly as it began, the lion’s roar ended, and the blinding flash dimmed to the revealing light of day. Hesitantly, Lady Ailyn lowered her arms and focused on the shape before her. The lion had become a man, resplendent in black and gold armor, holding something that glowed in his fist. His face resolved itself into Lord Tywin’s as he took several steps toward her.  
Lady Ailyn merely watched him approach, unsure of what to say. He sank down on one knee before her and offered up his right fist, opening his hand. The object within glowed so brightly that Ailyn couldn’t see what it was. She squinted at it as she drew nearer but it shimmered too brightly for her eyes. Lord Tywin did not speak but was looking up at her in earnest, silently entreating her to take what he held.  
She reached out to take it but as her fingers touched his hand, Lady Ailyn woke. She lay there for a moment as the dream faded away from her and then frowned as the scent of lavender remained. Ailyn opened and closed her eyes several times and then pinched herself to make sure she was awake but the familiar perfume did not disappear.  
The heavy curtains around her bed prevented her from seeing her room so she rolled over to one side and moved the curtain away. She stood up and blinked in the morning sunlight. As her eyes grew accustomed to the light, she noticed three large vases on her tables filled to bursting with fresh sprigs of lavender and heather. Ailyn gasped in surprise and eagerly went over to the nearest vase, breathing in deeply.  
The scent reminded her so forcibly of home that tears sprang to her eyes. She was still standing over the flowers when Lisi appeared quietly at her side. Ailyn turned to her, wiping away her tears, a little self consciously and asked where the flowers had come from.  
“They were brought in very early this morning my lady, as a gift from the Hand of the King,” replied Lisi quietly, watching her.  
Lady Ailyn nodded speechlessly, and requested that Lisi lay out her gown of deep purple for the day. Lisi nodded and moved away to do Ailyn’s bidding. She stood there for a while, lost in thought. Lord Tywin had crossed his daughter for her and now this unexpected gift. Perhaps that was his way of an apology? If he had been any other man, she would have suspected him of courting her but the idea was too strange. She touched the purple petals absently, and wondered what she was supposed to do. Ailyn thought she should thank him somehow and decided to write him a message instead of visiting his room.  
She quickly ate the breakfast Myra brought in and then stood patiently while both girls helped her dress for the day. Ailyn was still a little tired from being slightly starved yesterday and her usually straight shoulders wilted as Myra pulled the laces of her corset closed. When she was dressed, Ailyn sat down before a mirror and watched Myra put up her hair. The girl had stopped asking how she wished her hair done and automatically began curling and twisting it up atop her head. Ailyn glanced over at the flowers a few times while Myra was pinning her hair.  
“Thank you, Myra,” said Lady Ailyn when the girl had finished, rising and walking over to her desk.  
She sat down, pulled a sheet of parchment toward her and inked a quill. And then stopped. What should she say? Everything that came to mind either sounded weak or simpering. Ailyn sat at her desk, frowning down at the paper as if it was somehow responsible for her inability to express herself. There were many things she wanted to say to him but deemed it unwise to put down on paper. The Queen had probably already heard about the flowers. Ailyn saw the Queen’s angry glare in her mind’s eye and shook her head to get rid of the image.  
Lady Ailyn sat, staring alternately at the flowers then at the sky from her balcony, unable to put ink to paper when there was a knock on her door. She jumped and stared at the door apprehensively. No good news had thus far arrived this way. Ailyn waited, her heart beating quickly in her chest as Lisi went to answer the door. She opened it and then spoke to someone in the hall. After a moment, she pulled the door closed again and walked over to Lady Ailyn.  
“Lord Tyrion wishes to see you my lady. Shall I admit him?” asked Lisi.  
She paused, thinking back on how her meeting with Lord Tywin’s daughter had gone, and then reluctantly decided to see him. At least in her room, she could send him away if he was as verbally abusive as his sister.  
Lisi exchanged a quick look with Myra, who slipped quietly away, and then opened the door for Tyrion.  
Despite his diminutive stature, Tyrion entered the room with dignity, a kind smile on his wounded face. Lady Ailyn smiled as well and moved to meet him.  
“Lord Tyrion, it is an honor to meet you. I am Lady Ailyn of Willow Glen,” she said, bending slightly while extending a hand to him.  
Tyrion’s face shifted into surprise and then quickly returned to its original state as he winced.  
“Just Tyrion has always been good enough for me, my lady. I have been received with many different salutations but this is the first time anyone has been honored to meet me,” he said curiously, clasping her hand respectfully and then letting it go.  
“I understand that you are to thank as much as Lord Tywin and the Tyrells for saving the city,” she explained, straightening.   
“It is kind of you to say so, my lady. Few others share your opinion,” replied Tyrion.  
“Why not?” asked Lady Ailyn, frowning in confusion.  
“It seems it is not as heroic to be led into a battle by a dwarf as a tall man,” remarked Tyrion, the smile not leaving his face.  
“That only makes you twice as brave,” Lady Ailyn said firmly.  
“Or twice as foolish. At the very least, I now have these battle scars to woo women with,” Tyrion quipped, gesturing to the long, red scar that traversed nearly his entire face.  
“Forgive me my lord, but what Maester allowed your wound to heal like that? Surely the Maester for the court of King’s Landing is not incompetent?” demanded Lady Ailyn.  
“He is a foolish man but a decent Maester. I confess it is partially my fault that he did not take any great pains to heal me,” Tyrion informed her.  
“What do you mean?” she asked, intrigued.  
“I may have imprisoned him while I was acting as Hand of the King,” said Tyrion, with a careless wave of his hand.  
Lady Ailyn chuckled and nodded.  
“Well, before you leave, I can give you some tincture of bettany which should help it heal and take away the itching,” offered Lady Ailyn.  
Tyrion gave her an appraising sort of look.  
“That is most generous of you, my lady,” he replied with a gracious nod of the head.  
“Not at all. Would you care to sit down?” Lady Ailyn asked, gesturing to some chairs in partial sunlight near her balcony.  
“I am not disturbing you?” questioned Tyrion.  
“I would be glad of the company,” she assured him, walking over to take a seat herself.  
Ailyn sent Lisi for a bottle of Arbor Gold as Tyrion hopped up on the seat across from her.  
“To what do I owe this visit?” she asked, after he had made himself comfortable.  
“Any woman my father pays attention to and my sister tries to have killed out of jealousy is a woman worth meeting,” explained Tyrion.  
“The Queen is jealous?” asked Lady Ailyn quietly.  
“Because Lord Tywin listens to you and seeks out your company. My sister used to be the only woman our father approved of,” replied Tyrion, trying to make out her expression.  
“To be honest, Tyrion, I am not sure how Lord Tywin feels about me. We have said some horrible things to each other,” Lady Ailyn said, looking off to the side.  
“But he respects you.”  
“How do you know?” asked Ailyn.  
“Because you are still alive,” finished Tyrion, glancing at Lisi as she filled two goblets for them.  
Lady Ailyn was silent for a time.  
“These flowers are very fragrant. Did you send for them?” Tyrion inquired after taking a long drink of wine.  
Ailyn looked at Tyrion a little warily and then shook her head, unsure of how he would react.  
“No. They were a gift from the Hand,” she said quietly, hesitantly meeting Tyrion’s gaze.  
Tyrion swallowed his wine abruptly and then coughed, his eyes going wide in surprise.  
“Really? I shall have to keep an eye out for flying horses then as well,” quipped Tyrion, taking another sip to clear his throat.  
“I was as surprised as you are,” Ailyn assured him, laughing.  
Ailyn appreciated his good humor and his frank, open countenance, marred though it was, put her at ease.  
“Tyrion may I tell you something?” she asked, putting her wine down.  
“I am always happy to listen to a woman’s secrets,” he replied, setting his cup down as well.  
Lady Ailyn looked at him and said, “Despite the popular opinion, I don’t want anything from your father. I don’t want money or position. I just want to go home to my family, tend to my city, sit in my garden and visit my husband’s grave.”  
Her voiced cracked a little on the last word and she looked away from him, blinking rapidly.  
“Then you are a truly singular woman,” pronounced Tyrion gently, pouring her another cup of wine.  
She wiped her eyes with her fingers quickly and laughed a little.  
“I’m sorry. I should never have wine before midday,” she apologized with a smile.  
“I find I cannot make it to midday without a glass of wine,” continued Tyrion, trying to let her cover her embarrassment.  
She chuckled again and smiled gratefully at him.  
“There was something I did wish to ask you, if you don’t mind, my lady,” said Tyrion after a moment.  
“Certainly.”  
“Was it your idea to take the pass through the Low Mountains to get to Harrenhal?” asked Tyrion, taking another drink of wine.  
“How did you know?”   
“My father has no imagination. I would be surprised if he knew that pass existed at the outset of this war,” replied Tyrion.  
“I suggested the idea to him, yes. He sent scouts to confirm it was there before making a decision,” explained Lady Ailyn.  
“And where did you come across that knowledge, my lady?” inquired Tyrion, looking at her curiously.  
“I confess I read about it only a month earlier in The Travels of Philip Dunstan,” she admitted, plucking some grapes from the bowl of fruit in front of them.  
Tyrion smiled in surprise.  
“You read, my lady?”  
“Oh yes. Whatever I can get my hands on usually. Dunstan is one of my favorites; I have always wanted to travel,” Lady Ailyn confided, eating some fat, purple grapes.  
“So have I,” said Tyrion quietly, with a smile.  
“Have you ever read Xaos’ account of Pentos?” inquired Ailyn eagerly.  
“It’s excellent,” Tyrion informed her.  
“Where did you find a copy? I’ve been trying to get a hold of one for several years now,” sighed Ailyn.  
“I believe I have a copy at Casterly Rock. I will send for it for you,” offered Tyrion graciously, pouring himself another cup of wine.  
“Thank you. That is very kind of you, Tyrion,” Ailyn smiled happily at him.  
He merely toasted her and took another sip of wine.  
Ailyn’s face fell a little as she said quietly, “I was expecting you to treat me as your sister did but I am glad you do not hate me.”  
“I don’t hate on principle as Her Grace does,” commented Tyrion, shaking his head.  
She was about to speak when something caught Tyrion’s eye across the room.  
“Is that a cyvasse board?” he asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile.  
“Yes. Do you play?” asked Lady Ailyn, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.  
“Indeed. I usually win,” replied Tyrion with a mildly taunting tone.  
“Oh? I consider that a challenge then,” she shot back with a grin.  
“Lisi? Would you bring the cyvasse board over and send for some lunch?” called Lady Ailyn to her maid. She looked back at Tyrion. “I think we’ll be here for some time.”

Their game took the better part of the afternoon, two meals and another flagon of wine but in the end, true to his word, Tyrion managed to out maneuver her and won the game.  
“Well played my lady,” complimented Tyrion, finishing his final cup of wine.  
“And you sir. Of course you realize we shall have to play again. I will not be defeated so easily,” she warned with a smile.  
“Easy?! That was the most difficult game I’ve had in years,” cried Tyrion.  
“For me as well. But I am wise to your tricks now.”  
Tyrion chuckled as he hopped down off his seat.  
“You’ve only just met me my lady. There’s plenty more where those came from,” he japed, walking to the door.  
“Wait.”  
Lady Ailyn went to her trunk and pulled out a vial of blue liquid.  
“Put a few drops on some cloth and dab it against your wound,” she explained, handing him the vial.  
“Many thanks, my lady,” said Tyrion with a smile and a bow.  
“Come visit me again soon,” she requested.  
“I have a few things to attend to in the next couple days but I will return, never fear.”  
“Have a pleasant evening my lord,” said Lady Ailyn curtsying to him.  
“The same to you, Lady Ailyn.”  
After he had gone, Lady Ailyn went back to the table and picked up her cup of wine. She stared at the board for a moment and then walked out onto her balcony to watch the sunset.   
As the sky burned red over the sun as it sank beneath the horizon, Lisi came out to speak to her.  
“If you please my lady, the Hand of the King is here,” she said quietly.  
With a pang, Ailyn remembered that she hadn’t thanked him yet for the flowers. Tyrion’s visit had put it completely out of her head. She turned and saw his rigid outline through the curtains of her balcony.  
“Thank you, Lisi,” she said quietly and walked back into the room.  
Lord Tywin straightened even further when he saw her.  
“Good evening my lady,” he rumbled as she approached him.  
“My lord,” she responded, dipping low.  
“You have spent the day resting?” asked Lord Tywin, studying her face.  
“Yes my lord. I did not leave my room today. Your son, Tyrion came to visit me,” Ailyn told him with a smile, which quickly faded as a sudden frown appeared on Lord Tywin’s countenance.  
“Tyrion?” His name came out like a curse.  
“What did he want?” demanded the Lion of Casterly Rock.  
“He simply wished to meet me my lord,” she explained, confused.  
“Did he behave?” questioned Lord Tywin as though Tyrion were a naughty child.  
“Of course, my lord; I enjoyed his company very much,” Ailyn answered, still frowning.  
Lord Tywin seemed to mull this over for a moment and then his expression cleared.  
“It is unlikely he will come to your chamber again. He is betrothed to Lady Sansa of Winterfell,” the Lord of Lannister told her.  
“Oh,” murmured Lady Ailyn taken aback, “He did not mention it.”  
“He will be informed tomorrow,” said the Hand of the King dispassionately.  
The cold detachment in his voice chilled her.  
“I see. Then I must congratulate you, my lord. Your family’s influence will extend to both the North and the South now,” Ailyn spoke quietly, trying to regain her composure.  
“As it should,” concluded Lord Tywin proudly.  
Lady Ailyn looked down, at a loss for words.  
“Those are the correct flowers?” asked Lord Tywin after a moment.  
Her head snapped up, a soft blush of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks.   
“Yes, my garden at home is filled with lavender and heather. It was a very welcome surprise this morning,” she insisted, smiling warmly at him.  
He merely nodded without comment.  
“It seems I have something else to give you today,” said Lord Tywin, standing to the side.  
“Come,” he called loudly, looking at her door.  
She frowned at him and then looked apprehensively at the door as well. A guard opened one and ushered in two hooded figures. The one on the left tossed back the hood.  
“Gana!” cried Lady Ailyn happily. Before she could stop herself, she ran to her maid and threw her arms around her. Gana embraced her in return.  
“I missed you so much,” Ailyn whispered into Gana’s brown hair.  
“I missed you too, my lady,” Gana replied, hugging her fiercely.  
Ailyn stepped back but held onto Gana’s hands. She looked over at the other figure who reluctantly drew her hood back as well.  
“Din!” she exclaimed, surprised to see her of all people.  
“I still wish to serve you, my lady; if you’ll have me,” whispered the girl, her black hair hanging near her face.  
“Of course. I’m delighted to see you,” Ailyn assured her with warm smile.  
She turned to Lord Tywin and caught his calculating gaze before his face went blank.  
Ailyn’s smile froze again.  
Maybe you are doing this to be kind, my lord but now you have two more hostages.   
“Thank you my lord. I have missed Gana dearly since I’ve been away. And I’m relieved to see Din again,” said Lady Ailyn, trying to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach.  
Ailyn summoned Lisi and Myra and bid them show Gana and Din the servants’ quarters and the kitchens. When the girls had gone, Ailyn turned to Lord Tywin again.  
“I was only expecting the one. The black haired girl is the one who served you in Harrenhal?” asked Lord Tywin, watching her.  
“Yes my lord. I sent her to Willow Glen after we left. I wanted to keep her safe.”  
From you.   
“She was not privy to anything important. Do what you like with her,” said Lord Tywin dismissively.  
Internally, Ailyn was struggling. She had wanted to trust him; she owed him her life twice over now but his current manner was putting her on her guard. She couldn’t reconcile his near tenderness to her in the dungeons yesterday with the heartless man who stood before her now.   
“How are things progressing?” she asked, to cover her inner turmoil.  
“Well enough. Balon Greyjoy is dead; one less king to contend with,” said Lord Tywin, satisfied.  
She nodded and was silent again.  
This time, Lord Tywin noticed.  
“Something distresses you, my lady?” he asked, frowning at her.  
She met his cold green eyes and forced herself to smile and wave her hand nonchalantly.  
“It’s just a little homesickness between the flowers and seeing Gana again. And I’m still tired from yesterday,” she admitted.  
“Shall I send for Maester Pycelle?” offered the Lord of Lannister.  
“No, another long night’s sleep will put me right again,” assured Lady Ailyn.  
“I am gratified, my lord, that you still think of my comfort when you have all the cares of running a kingdom on your mind,” she said quietly.  
“I swore I would look to your comfort,” Lord Tywin reminded her.  
She smiled at him and the hard look in his eyes softened ever so slightly.  
Lisi and Myra came back in through the servant’s entrance with Gana and Din.  
Lord Tywin glanced at them and then bid her good night.  
Ailyn wished him well also and then turned to face her maids.  
“Lisi, Myra come here please,” she requested.  
Both girls came forward, looking slightly nervous.  
“You have both served me well and I am grateful for all you’ve done. However, with my hand maid from Willow Glen and another from Harrenhal, I no longer require your services,” finished Lady Ailyn, looking from one girl to the other.  
“But what should we do now?” asked Lisi, glancing at Myra.  
Lady Ailyn regarded them both for a minute and then turned aside to let them walk past her.  
“Perhaps you should ask the Queen,” suggested Lady Ailyn quietly.  
Guilty looks passed over both girls’ faces as they slunk past her, shutting the door behind them.  
“They were spying on you?” asked Gana, coming to stand beside her mistress.  
“Everyone spies on everyone here,” sighed Lady Ailyn in a tired voice.  
She turned to Gana, took her hand and held her other one out for Din. She shuffled closer and gently clasped Ailyn’s hand.  
“While I am overjoyed to see both of you, you must know that you are in very real danger here. If I had had a choice in whether or not you would come to King’s Landing, I would have forbidden it. I was not aware that Lord Tywin would send for you without telling me. I would like to believe that I can keep you safe but I cannot promise you that I will be able to,” began Lady Ailyn, looking from Gana’s sharp blue eyes to Din’s brown ones.  
“I knew that when I agreed to come,” replied Gana. She looked over at Din. “And there was no stopping this girl from following me either.”  
Din cracked a fleeting smile and then her face went blank again.  
“Just promise me you’ll be careful. The world just became much less certain,” warned Lady Ailyn letting go of their hands and pouring a small cup of wine for herself.  
“What do you mean, my lady?” asked Gana, moving closer to her again.  
“Lord Tywin informed me that he has arranged a marriage between his younger son and Lady Sansa of Winterfell,” murmured Lady Ailyn, taking a drink of wine to steady her nerves.  
“Is that bad?” asked Gana, trying to understand. Din’s eyes sharpened but she said nothing.  
“The girl’s parents are not here to either sanction or refuse the match for her,” explained Lady Ailyn.  
Cold comprehension dawned on Gana’s face as Ailyn spoke again.  
“If he can do that to her, what’s to stop him from doing the same to me?”


	16. A Wedding

The next few days passed very happily for Lady Ailyn. She spent a fair amount of time explaining to Din and Gana who all the members of court were and their allegiances as far as she knew them. Ailyn told them both the truth about everything that had happened to her since she walked into the Lannister camp almost two months ago.  
Tyrion’s betrothal to Lady Sansa was formally announced. Much to her disappointment, Tyrion did not come to her rooms again, although he sent her the book she had asked about at their last meeting with a kind note urging her to take good care of it.  
A few days before the wedding, Gana handed her a message from her father. She moved away to let Ailyn read it and went about clearing away the breakfast dishes. Ailyn unrolled the strip of parchment and read the message. She caught her breath, tears coming to her eyes and then read it again. Her hands started to shake. Gana appeared at her side and took her gently by the arm.   
“What is it my lady?” she whispered, looking concerned but before Ailyn could form a response, there was a knock at her door.  
Ailyn swallowed back the urge to scream as Gana left her to see to the visitor.  
“The Hand wishes to see Lady Ailyn,” announced a voice that sounded vaguely familiar and yet did not belong to anyone she knew.  
Despite her current turmoil, Lady Ailyn walked over to the door to see who was speaking.  
The man in the doorway was tall and handsome, looking very knightly in a gold cloak with a smug smile and Tywin’s twinkling green eyes.  
“Ser Jaime?” hazarded Lady Ailyn with a frown.  
Gana turned to her mistress and then moved silently back to let them speak.  
The knight’s grin grew wider.  
“I did not realize my return was all the rage amongst feminine gossip,” said Ser Jaime looking her over.  
“I was not informed of your return,” replied Lady Ailyn, on her guard now that she knew she was speaking to Lord Tywin’s first born son. “You have Lord Tywin’s eyes and there is something of his voice in yours,” she supplied gently.  
“Outline any more similarities my lady, and I may have nightmares,” said Ser Jaime with mock seriousness.  
Lady Ailyn’s eyes fell to Ser Jaime’s side and she notice that instead of a right hand, he had a half closed fist molded in gold.  
She looked back up at him with sympathy.  
“Ah yes, now I get to carry a little of Casterly Rock around with me always,” he japed mirthlessly. “Come. Bad things happen to those who make my father wait.”  
She walked at his side as they ascended the steps to the Hand’s chambers.  
“Lord Tywin must be relieved to have you back,” she offered, glancing over at him.  
Ser Jaime’s face became a bitter smirk.  
“If he was happy to see me, I could not tell.”  
“I’m sure he is even if he doesn’t show it. He was worried about you after you had been captured,” Ailyn informed him.  
“Somehow I can’t picture my father pacing about and wringing his hands over me,” said Ser Jaime with a slight grin.  
Lady Ailyn smiled as well and replied, “No, but he mentioned his concern to me.”  
Ser Jaime raised a golden eyebrow in surprise much the same way she had seen Lord Tywin do only Jaime’s was done in good humor rather than annoyance.  
“I am surprised to hear my father has feelings let alone admitting as much to a hostage.”  
But before she could say anything further, Ser Jaime walked into the chamber of the Hand without knocking and announced her arrival.   
Lady Ailyn walked into the chamber of the Hand. Lord Tywin was rising from his desk as she came in. She stopped near the desk and cast a backward glance at the door Ser Jaime was closing.  
Lady Ailyn looked back at Lord Tywin who had come to stand before her and said quietly, “I am glad you have your son back, my lord.”  
Lord Tywin studied her for a moment and then replied, “My son is Lord Commander of the King’s Guard with no sword hand. I am hardly pleased.”  
Before Lady Ailyn could respond however, Lord Tywin, glancing down at the crumpled parchment clutched in her hand said abruptly, “What is wrong, my lady?”  
She looked up and him and then down at the letter as well, remembering its ill tidings.  
“My brother is very sick with a fever, my lord,” Ailyn answered, looking down at the floor. She blinked a few times and then forced herself to look up at him.  
“May I go to him, my lord? I swear I would return when he is well,” she pleaded, knowing his answer before he said it aloud.  
Something like regret passed over his face as he replied in a softer tone, “While I believe you would return, my lady, I’m afraid I cannot allow you to leave.”  
She looked away from him and nodded quickly, blinking back a few tears.  
“I know. I’m sorry. I had to ask,” Lady Ailyn said quietly, slipping the crumpled paper into a fold in her dress.  
In her peripheral vision, she saw him put out his hand to her then stop.  
She glanced at his hand and then up at him questioningly.  
Lord Tywin’s mouth worked silently as he cast about for the proper words.   
“Will you walk with me?” he asked, after a moment, turning his hand palm upwards for her to take it.  
Lady Ailyn searched his face for his intentions but could divine nothing. She nodded again and placed her hand in his. To her surprise, he pressed it briefly before turning to walk forward. His gesture of comfort eased her pain a little though it confused her as all his sudden flashes of emotion did. She moved with him out of his room and down the main spiral stairs out of the Tower of the Hand.  
Ailyn was dimly aware that he was speaking to her and made the appropriate responses. To her relief, he turned into the upper palace gardens with an excellent view of the sea. Several guards followed them at a respectful distance.  
They walked in silence to the far wall and they both paused at its edge, looking out at the sparkling waters of the Narrow Sea. After a moment, Ailyn looked up at Lord Tywin to see a frown creasing his brow. She realized she was being poor company and spoke up.  
“Something troubles you as well, my lord?” asked Lady Ailyn quietly.  
Lord Tywin looked over at her and then back out to the sea.  
“One of my banner men, Lord Gardus, was supposed to lead an attack against the Stark host near the Golden Tooth. Instead, he fled back to his keep near Lannisport like a coward. He has been brought to me to face justice for his lack of loyalty,” growled the Lord of Casterly Rock.  
Lady Ailyn looked away from him and then asked, “Are you going to have him killed?”  
“He is a traitor and a disgrace to his house. I have no patience for spineless lords; yes, I am going to take his useless head off,” finished Lord Tywin, gripping the stone wall.  
Lady Ailyn was silent for a moment and then hazarded her opinion.  
“Perhaps, my lord, it would be more useful to make a living example of him rather than a dead one.”  
Lord Tywin looked at her curiously and then asked her to elaborate.  
“Lord Gardus holds many valuable shipping contracts with nearly ever major port across the Narrow Sea, does he not?” she asked, wishing to confirm what she had heard.  
Lord Tywin merely nodded and waited for her to continue.  
“Instead of taking his head, you could confiscate several valuable contracts in the name of the King and use them for the benefit of King’s Landing. If winter truly is coming my lord, you would do well to increase any influence you have across the Narrow Sea to ensure there will be enough food at least in the capitol to outlast the cold. The war will have taken its toll on nearly all of Westeros’ ability to feed itself,” reasoned Lady Ailyn, glancing over at Lord Tywin to gage his reaction to her suggestion.  
The way his eyes sharpened slightly she could tell he was considering what she had said.  
“And if you happen to hear any whispers about ‘weak lions,’ then make sharp examples of those with loose tongues rather than Lord Gardus’ loose sense of duty,” concluded Lady Ailyn, knowing he would still wish to protect the ruthless Lannister image.  
Ailyn was gratified to see the lion’s smile quirk at the corner of his mouth and pride flash in his green eyes. But his gaze shifted to something over her right shoulder and his expression immediately went cold with disapproval.  
“Forgive my intrusion, my lady, but I have an urgent matter to discuss with my lord father,” the Queen Regent said with icy courtesy, as Lady Ailyn turned to face her.  
“Your Grace,” said Lady Ailyn politely, dropping into a curtsy, “As you wish.”   
She turned back to Lord Tywin and curtsied to him as well with a small smile. Lord Tywin inclined his head to her and wished her ‘good morning’ before she moved to leave. Ailyn walked quickly past the Queen and went straight back to her room to write a letter to her father.

The morning of Tyrion and Lady Sansa’s wedding, Lady Ailyn finally had a raven back from Lord Silvyn telling her that Mardyn’s fever had broken and the boy was on the mend.  
“I should have been there with him. Father was probably beside himself with worry,” lamented Lady Ailyn to Gana.  
“To tell you the truth my lady, Mardyn was becoming more unruly every day that you were away. While I would never wish an illness on the boy, no doubt it calmed him down a little,” said Gana, helping Lady Ailyn slip into her gown for the wedding.  
“I miss him so much. And father,” murmured Ailyn quietly.  
“He was scared for you, my lady. He watched for ravens from you nearly every day after you had left the area,” supplied Gana, tightening the strings near her waist.  
Ailyn nodded and straightened her shoulders slightly as Gana closed the seam up the back of her dress. She was standing before a long mirror and smoothed her full skirt. The dress was a bright silvery grey trimmed with fine white lace from Myr. The neckline was low off her shoulders and her sleeves were grey with a cream interior on the long edges near her wrists. Gana affixed Ailyn silver pin of a hawk in flight to the top center of her bodice and then went for a single strand of pearls for Ailyn’s neck.  
“You must take care not to be prettier than the bride,” Lord Hugh had written in his last letter to her.  
Lady Ailyn was sure her dress would be plain next to all the finery that would be on display among the court but she preferred her own quiet beauty to the fiercely stunning look most women, including the Queen, usually went for.   
After a deep breath to calm her nerves, Lady Ailyn left her room and made her way down to the Sept where the wedding was to be held.   
Lady Sansa looked lovely in her gown of pink and grey although the frozen smile on her face belied the happiness she was trying to project. Tyrion was waiting for her at the altar flanked by the rest of the Lannister family. Cersei was exquisitely dressed in a deep crimson gown slashed with gold but beside her, Lord Tywin was all in black. The only color was the Hand of the King pin glinting in the candlelight on his chest and one folded back lapel of the same deep crimson as his daughter’s dress. King Joffrey stood as close to Lady Sansa as Ser Kevan did to Lord Tywin. Ser Jaime stood with the rest of the gold cloaks at the foot of the stairs. There was something malevolent about the Queen’s smile as she watched Lady Sansa step up beside Tyrion for the ceremony. Lord Tywin’s eyes were narrowed and intensely alert.   
The ceremony was short. She could feel Lady Sansa’s embarrassment as she knelt down to have her maiden cloak of House Stark removed and let Tyrion clasp a red Lannister cloak around her to end the wedding. They walked hand and hand down the aisle, neither looking very pleased.  
Of all the Lannisters you could have been forced to marry, Tyrion is the least likely to treat you badly, thought Lady Ailyn.  
Although to be fair to Sansa, Tyrion’s family hadn’t murdered anyone in hers.  
Back in the palace, the guests were taking their seats for the feast. A small cluster of ladies came up to Ailyn to ask her to sit with them. Lady Ailyn obliged them with a smile and sat down with them to supper. Lady Ghent was from a lesser house near Lannisport and was anxious to hear about life in a soldier camp. While Ladies Winton and Steele were not as vocal in their wishes, they hung on her every word. Out of the corner of her eye, Lady Ailyn could see other women throwing her filthy looks.   
As the dinner neared its end, several younger lords and a knight came up to ask for her hand in the coming dances. She was surprised at their attention but readily agreed to dance with each in turn. Tyrion and Sansa sat side by side up at the high table, barely speaking to each other. Cersei was grinning widely at one of the Tyrell lords who was sitting near her. Lord Tywin was speaking quietly with Ser Kevan and a white haired woman Lady Ailyn didn’t recognize. She didn’t see any sign of Lord Hugh although he assured her that he would be here.  
The music changed and most of the wedding guests rose to let the servants move the tables aside so there was room to dance. Several more ladies came up to her to introduce themselves. While she had enough tact not to let it show, most of the women that she had met at court were either boring or so insipid that Ailyn had to struggle to keep a kind smile on her face as they were talking.  
When Ser Linley returned to claim her hand, she was only too grateful to be taken away. Ser Linley had a kind smile and an unruly mop of brown curls which reminded her of her brother. Soon, his hand gave way to Lord Jarvis’ who had already had a bit too much wine and held her a little too close to his broad stomach for her comfort. Two more dances followed in quick succession and then she waved off the next, asking for a brief rest.  
Ailyn went to a side table and took a cup of wine. Turning around, she noticed that Tyrion and Sansa were finally on their own at the table and she decided to go speak to them. Tyrion was draining a large goblet of wine but smiled genuinely when he saw her approach.  
“Lady Ailyn, good evening. I trust you are enjoying yourself; you’ve hardly been off the dance floor,” commented Tyrion pouring himself another glass. Sansa looked over at her with the same wooden, polite interest she was giving to everyone.  
“I am, thank you. I wanted to thank you for the book as well. I am nearly finished; it’s wonderful,” Ailyn said warmly with a smile.  
“You are most welcome. I am pleased you appreciate it; few women are inclined to reading,” replied Tyrion, taking another drink.  
“Most of the women I’ve spoken to this evening could do with a little more reading and a little less gossiping,” muttered Lady Ailyn.  
Tyrion laughed and then winced.  
“If you’ll excuse me ladies, the wine is getting to me.”  
He hopped down off his chair and walked away in the direction of the privies.  
“May I sit with you for a moment Lady Sansa?” asked Lady Ailyn gently.  
Lady Sansa nodded absently and turned her head as Lady Ailyn sat down beside her.  
“I am a hostage to the Lannisters the same as you,” began Lady Ailyn quietly.  
“I am grateful for their protection against my traitor brother,” was the girl’s emotionless reply.  
The quiet anguish in the girl’s blue eyes said more than her carefully trained tongue.  
“I know this isn’t the marriage you wanted, but Tyrion is good and kind although you may not be able to see it. He will not be cruel,” Lady Ailyn assured her, trying her best to comfort the empty shell sitting next to her.  
“As his wife, you should try to show him a little kindness from time to time if you can. He did not want this marriage anymore than you did,” she said softly.  
“I will be faithful to my lord husband,” was the considered reply.  
Lady Ailyn nodded and gave the girl’s cold hand a comforting squeeze before standing up and moving away. Ailyn moved toward a small cluster of men that contained Lord Baelish. She touched him lightly on the arm and asked to speak with him; apologizing to the other lords he was with.  
Petyr Baelish smiled widely at her.  
“Lady Ailyn, you look exquisite tonight,” offered Lord Baelish smoothly as he walked with her to a quieter alcove near a wall.  
“Everyone looks exquisite tonight, Lord Baelish but thank you for the compliment,” returned Lady Ailyn, finishing the last of her wine and placing it on a tray as a servant walked past.  
“There is something I wish to ask you,” she began.  
“You have my undivided attention.”  
“It may be my imagination, but I seem to be receiving much more attention than usual. Since I’ve been in King’s Landing, I’ve had almost no visitors to my rooms, but tonight, it seems everyone and their uncle either wishes to speak to me or dance with me,” explained Lady Ailyn, watching him closely.  
“Ah, you are very observant, my lady. You see, word has gotten around that you are in confidence with the Hand of the King. Those who shun you are too slow to realize their opportunity. Those who flatter and demand your attention are hoping to garner favor with the most powerful house in Westeros through you,” Lord Baelish informed her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.  
“I have no influence over Lord Tywin’s decisions or to whom he chooses to show favor,” denied Lady Ailyn, shaking her head.  
Lord Baelish studied her for a moment and then asked, “Were you aware that the Hand recently decided to spare Lord Gardus’ life and confiscate more than half his shipping charters?”  
Lady Ailyn tried to keep the surprise from her face but she was sure than Lord Baelish noticed it.  
“No, I wasn’t.”  
“You see, he had informed his small council of his intentions to have the man beheaded for his disloyalty. Then, the next day, he changes his mind and sets forth this new plan. He spoke with you that morning,” said Lord Baelish in a way that was gently accusing.  
“He spoke with the Queen as well Lord Baelish,” insisted Lady Ailyn, trying not to sound too defensive.  
“The Queen thinks the way Lord Tywin does: death to all disloyal to House Lannister. She would not have wanted to spare his life,” reasoned Lord Baelish.  
“And you think I somehow influenced his change of opinion?” asked Lady Ailyn innocently.  
“He would not seek you out as much as he does if you were not intelligent,” continued Lord Baelish, still gazing at her intently.  
Lady Ailyn didn’t like where his questions were leading.  
“Lord Tywin did not become who he is without also being more cunning than any other players on the board,” deflected Lady Ailyn. “If you’ll excuse me Lord Baelish, I’d like to sit down.”  
Without waiting for him to speak again, she moved away from him and toward a row of chairs. Just before she reached them however, a very large man in a green and gold tunic stepped in her path.  
“Do I have the honor of addressing Lady Ailyn?” asked the man in a booming voice.  
“You do my lord,” she replied with an instant smile, offering him her hand.  
“I am Mace Tyrell of Highgarden and I should very much like to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room,” he said gallantly, tickling the back of her hand with his black beard as he kissed it.  
Lady Ailyn was about to reply when a voice behind him said coldly, “The lady is spoken for.”  
A frown passed over Tyrell’s face as he let go of her hand and turned to face the speaker. Lord Tywin appeared behind him, his jaw set in a firm line. He wasn’t exactly glaring at Mace Tyrell but the look was far from friendly. There was a tense moment of silence before Tyrell laughed and told Lord Tywin he was welcome to her. Lady Ailyn smiled and nodded to Tyrell as he moved away. Lord Tywin stepped closer to her, his look softening a little but he did not speak.  
Lady Ailyn glanced to the side and then inquired, “Is that you way of asking me to dance my lord?”  
Lord Tywin’s eyes widened in surprise and then he put out his hand for hers.  
“Will you?” amended Lord Tywin.  
She had some misgivings about what it could mean if he danced with her but nevertheless, she took his hand and walked with him out onto the dance floor. Only a few other couples remained as the music started; the song was slow and more romantic than the preceding ones. With a deep breath, Ailyn met his gaze, pressed her palm to his and moved in close to begin the dance.  
She was surprised at how easy it was to dance with him. He led her without force or being domineering, guiding her movements with his hand on her lower back. For the first moment or so, Ailyn simply watched his face to see if he would smile. He didn’t and his eyes lost none of their intensity as he looked down at her.  
“Did you not wish me to dance with Mace Tyrell?” she asked quietly, after he brought her back in from a turn.  
“No, I’d prefer it if Mace Tyrell stayed away from you. I am sure he is looking for a match for his eldest son,” said Lord Tywin, glancing away from her swiftly and then refocusing on her.  
“I am not well born enough to marry into Highgarden my lord, you needn’t worry about that. I have no desire to marry again anyway,” she replied, stepping back from him and then coming in close as the dance dictated.  
A frown creased Lord Tywin’s brow.  
“Would you refuse if an offer was made to you?” asked the Lord of Casterly Rock, putting his arm around her again.  
“It would depend on who was asking I suppose. My father expects me to wed again regardless of my wishes. I know I must do my duty when the time comes,” Lady Ailyn sighed softly.  
Lord Tywin raised his arm and spun her around so her back rested against his chest, her arms almost at full tension as they glided sideways together. Lady Ailyn caught a look of pure poison from the Queen and a leer from Lord Baelish. She glanced around the room and noticed more than half the court watching them. Her chest tightened and she gripped Lord Tywin’s hands a little harder. He sensed her distress and turned her back in to face him before the music caught up with them.  
“Perhaps this was not a good idea,” she whispered softly, looking at the pin on his chest.  
“I will have words with anyone who continues to question your conduct around me,” replied Lord Tywin with a slight edge to his voice.  
She smiled sadly and shook her head.  
“I would rather be back out on the battlefield than at court,” she whispered, looking back up at him again.  
The corner of his mouth quirked up into his controlled smile, as Lord Tywin held her a little closer than was necessary for the dance.  
“At times, so would I,” he agreed near her ear.  
She smiled at their mutual understanding.  
As the dance was nearing its end, Lady Ailyn asked: “Lord Baelish mentioned that you decided to let Lord Gardus live?”   
She felt him stiffen and then move his head to look down at her again.  
“What did you tell him?” asked Lord Tywin, his tone shifting to suspicion.  
“That I was surprised to hear it. Decisions such as that must be yours and yours alone my lord, although I’m sure Lord Baelish is clever enough to suspect something,” said Lady Ailyn meeting his sharp green eyes.  
“Your suggestion conveyed the message of power that I wished for while also being very profitable. I am grateful you have enough foresight not to undermine my authority,” complimented Lord Tywin in a low voice, relaxing slightly.  
The dance ended and they stepped back from each other to curtsy and bow.  
“That is the last thing I would wish,” she confirmed as they straightened.  
To her surprise, he put his hand out for hers again.  
“Come, I would like you to meet my sister, Lady Genna,” he requested, waiting for her to take his hand.  
She smiled and nodded, accepting his hand and walking with him back to the high table. On her way, she glanced to her left and caught a pair of very blue, very sad eyes. She stopped suddenly, causing Lord Tywin to look over at her in surprise.  
“Please excuse me for a moment my lord. I will return soon,” she insisted and then, before he could protest, she slipped away from him and headed for the doors.   
Once outside them, she looked left and right and saw him moving slowly away down a side hallway.  
“Lord Hugh!” she called, picking up her dress and hurrying over to him.  
He turned around at her voice but the smile that came to his face was not his usual playful grin.  
“I am glad to see you. Were you at the feast long?” asked Lady Ailyn, coming to a stop in front of him.  
“No, I was only there for maybe a half hour or so. I wanted to tell you that Lord Tywin has asked me to return to my home and then do what I can to garner support from our spice traders in Pentos and Lys,” he told her.  
“You are leaving?” asked Lady Ailyn anxiously.  
Lord Hugh nodded.  
“After tonight, I feel it is the right thing to do,” he added, taking her hand.  
“What do you mean?’ asked Lady Ailyn, frowning.  
“I saw the way you danced with him, my lady. It is better that I go. You are safe enough here now,” conceded Lord Hugh, pressing her hand and the letting go.  
“I will always be grateful for your friendship Lord Hugh,” Lady Ailyn assured him, sorry to see him go.  
“You shall always have it, my lady. You should go; Lord Tywin does not like to be kept waiting,” said Lord Hugh quietly, bowing a little stiffly due to his wound.  
Lady Ailyn could only nod and curtsy silently in return. She watched him walk away from her, feeling guilty.   
With quiet resolve, she pinched her cheeks to put some color back in them and screwed up her face into a smile to return to Lord Tywin.  
Being as tall as he was, she found him easily, standing near the same white haired woman she had seen him with earlier.  
“Forgive me, my lord,” she offered apologetically, coming to stand beside him.  
He looked down at her and then back at the white haired woman.  
“Lady Ailyn of House Greystone, this is Lady Genna Frey, my sister,” introduced Lord Tywin.  
The women curtseyed to each other. Lady Genna had the same piercing green eyes of the Lannisters and the same confident bearing as Lord Tywin.  
“I am pleased to meet you Lady Ailyn. I’ve heard much about you,” said Lady Genna, looking her over not unkindly.  
There was a sudden loud argument off to their right and Lord Tywin moved off with a low growl to sort it out.  
“Hopefully not all of it was bad,” returned Lady Ailyn with a smile.  
“Not at all. You must be strong willed if you survived living in a soldier’s camp with my brother for two months,” postulated Lady Genna. “I’m sure most other women here would faint away if they were merely told to live without their maids for a day.”  
“I’m sure the smell and mud would have gotten to them first,” said Lady Ailyn with a smile.  
Lady Genna laughed easily, the corners of her eyes crinkling with her mirth.  
“I can see why he likes your company. You haven’t had the spirit stamped out of you,” she said approvingly.  
“Has he said that?” asked Lady Ailyn quietly, glancing over at Lord Tywin as he chastised several lords.  
“He doesn’t need to, dear. I can tell by the way he looks at you,” answered Lady Genna kindly.  
Lady Ailyn looked down at the floor as Lady Genna finished speaking. All at once, her dress felt several sizes too tight. She felt her cheeks turning pink as the irrational weight of a thousand knowing stares pierced her back. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as her head went fuzzy. Ailyn wanted to scream at all of them. Why couldn’t she speak with Lord Tywin without all the speculation?  
“Are you alright Lady Ailyn? I did not mean to upset you,” asked Lady Genna, looking at her with concern.  
“You haven’t upset me Lady Genna. I think something I ate is disagreeing with me. Will you give my apologies to Lord Tywin?” said Lady Ailyn in a slight hoarse voice.  
“Of course. Will you let me come and visit you tomorrow if you are feeling better?” Lady Genna inquired.  
“I would like that very much,” Lady Ailyn assured her with a smile. “Please, excuse me.”  
She left the hall as quickly as she dared and when she was sure she was alone, she broke into a run for her room. Ailyn didn’t want to believe that Lord Tywin had somehow developed feelings for her. What it could mean for her and her family terrified her. She wanted to run home more than ever but stopped short when she realized she was forbidden to leave the palace. Lady Ailyn knew she would have to speak with him about his intentions soon; as soon as she could figure out what her own feelings were toward him. The malicious whispers and stares crowding her imagination followed her to her room where she slammed the door on them and slowly sank to the floor. The last thing she saw was Gana running toward her.


	17. Due Consideration

Lady Ailyn passed a restless evening, plagued with nightmares and deep anxiety. She rose at dawn, feeling more tired than when she collapsed in bed the night before.  
“My lady, you should try to sleep more,” urged Gana who appeared at Ailyn’s elbow.  
“I can’t sleep. I’ve been lying awake for at least an hour,” said Lady Ailyn quietly, sitting down at a table.  
Gana brought over a covered tray of breakfast, anticipating her mistress’ early rising. Ailyn motioned for Gana to sit with her as she picked at her food.  
“What happened last night?” asked Gana softly, her eyes full of concern.  
“It was a pleasant enough evening but the way some of the women were looking at me, you’d have thought I was some dockside whore,” admitted Ailyn, sipping at some honey tea.  
“I’ve never been despised like that before,” she whispered softly.  
“I think it was more jealousy than hatred,” reasoned Gana.  
“I am not profiting by my association with Lord Tywin. He hasn’t given or promised me anything. I am still his prisoner. No one seems to realize that,” sighed Ailyn, taking a bite of toast.  
“He doesn’t appear to treat you like a prisoner though my lady. I think that is what is giving the people here food for speculation,” Gana pointed out, pouring herself a cup of tea as well at Ailyn’s insistence.  
“Things might be different if he didn’t seek my company so often. His servants and some of his guards even get this knowing look on their face when I am sent for,” murmured Ailyn in annoyance. “But after being constantly in his company for two months, sharing his thoughts and concerns when he made them known to me, feels natural now. It would be strange to me, if he suddenly stopped.”  
“Do you enjoy his company, my lady?” asked Gana, looking at her carefully.  
Ailyn glanced off to the left as she considered her answer.  
“I do enjoy speaking with him when he isn’t in a foul mood. I feel as though he is truly listening to me,” Ailyn said softly, looking back at Gana.  
Gana smiled a gentle but sad smile.  
“Perhaps that is why you like him, my lady; both he and your late husband took you seriously.”  
Ailyn smiled too and nodded in agreement.  
“They do have that in common, yes,” acquiesced Lady Ailyn.  
“Will you ask him to stop seeking you out or continue as you are, my lady?” asked Gana pointedly.  
“I feel I must say something to him. I’m sure he barely notices what’s happening because it isn’t affecting him as it is me. Everyone is afraid of him; no one is scared of me,” conceded Ailyn ruefully.  
“Nevertheless, my lady, I think you are resourceful enough to change that,” replied Gana with a wicked smile, as she rose to clear away the breakfast things.  
Ailyn scoffed quietly but smiled in her own way.  
Gana helped her dress and then left her alone with a book on her balcony. It was later in the afternoon when a visitor arrived.  
“Lady Genna is here to see you, my lady,” Din informed her quietly.  
“Show her out here Din, thank you,” requested Lady Ailyn, setting Tyrion’s book aside.   
She rose to meet Lord Tywin’s sister.  
Lady Genna was dressed in a red gown instead of the pale Frey blue of her husband’s house. Genna smiled at Ailyn when she came out onto the balcony and reached out for her hand.  
“Lady Ailyn, how are you faring this morning?” asked Lady Genna, giving Ailyn’s hands an affectionate squeeze.  
“Much better, thank you. I apologize again for leaving so abruptly last night. I thought the soup tasted a little off. Perhaps that was what upset me,” said Lady Ailyn, offering Lady Genna the chair opposite.  
Lady Genna sat down and then fixed Ailyn with the same piercing look Lord Tywin used to give her.  
“Lady Ailyn,” began Genna gently, “I would very much like to get to know you better and it will be much easier to do so if you are honest with me. After what my brother told me you went through while in camp with him, I’m sure overly salted soup was not the cause of your distress.”  
Ailyn blushed and glanced away from Genna’s Lannister gaze.  
“Forgive me, Lady Genna. I do not wish to lie to you, nor do I wish to appear weak by telling you the true cause of why I left,” explained Lady Ailyn, meeting Genna’s green eyes hesitantly.  
“It would take a good deal to make me think less of you Lady Ailyn. Tell me what is troubling you,” persisted Lady Genna, settling herself into her chair to listen.  
“Ever since I arrived here, I have been living under this scandalous cloud of suspicion. I thought I could just ignore it but, last night, so many women were staring at me as though I was naked and then after your comment and Lord Hugh’s, I just couldn’t bear it any longer,” recounted Lady Ailyn quietly, not meeting Lady Genna’s gaze.  
“My comment about him looking at you a certain way?” asked Lady Genna.  
Ailyn nodded.  
Lady Genna remained silent; a kindly, patient look on her face.  
“I don’t know what you’ve heard but I give your my word, on my honor such as it is, that nothing has happened between Lord Tywin and myself,” insisted Lady Ailyn, looking at Genna now to gauge her reaction.  
Lady Genna cocked her head a little to the side.  
“Nothing?” she asked, testing Lady Ailyn again.  
Ailyn sighed inwardly.  
“The night the assassin broke in to Lord Tywin’s room in Harrenhal,” Lady Ailyn paused to see if this event was familiar to Lady Genna. She nodded and Lady Ailyn continued: “I was cleaning one of his wounds and he … stole a kiss.”  
Ailyn blushed at the memory and glanced up at Genna who was smiling.  
“I’m sure he apologized for it afterward,” remarked Lady Genna.  
Ailyn nodded.  
“You haven’t told anyone this?” asked Lady Genna.  
“Only you,” Ailyn assured her.  
“Tywin has been so single-minded about protecting House Lannister’s image for so long, that he denies the possibility of having the same needs as every other man in this world,” Lady Genna explained, accepting the cup of wine Din had silently poured for her.   
Lady Ailyn asked softly: “In all that time, has there been no one else?”  
Lady Genna shook her head a little sadly.  
“He must be lonely,” murmured Lady Ailyn more to herself than to Lady Genna.  
“He would cut out his own tongue before admitting it but yes, he is,” Genna confirmed.  
“I want to ask you something Lady Ailyn, which you may refuse to answer if you wish. I swear it will go no further than this balcony. How do you feel about him?” asked Lady Genna, watching her.  
Ailyn paused for a while to consider her answer.  
“I admire and respect him, Lady Genna. I enjoy his company, more than any man’s since my husband died. I like…I like that he listens to me, instead of dismissing me,” Lady Ailyn confessed.  
“That is rare for him,” Genna commented.  
“So I gathered from Her Grace, the Queen,” said Lady Ailyn ruefully.  
“Ah yes. Tywin told me about your first run in with Cersei,” said Genna, shaking her head.  
“I am sorry that she views me as a threat. I didn’t have time to tell her that I don’t want anything from Lord Tywin,” insisted Lady Ailyn.  
“Even though you are in a position to gain everything?” queried Genna, looking at her strangely.  
Lady Ailyn shook her head.  
“I just want to go home to my father, my brother and get on with the rest of my life.”  
Genna narrowed her eyes at Ailyn but she could divine nothing dishonest in her face.  
“I must think of my future, Lady Genna. I know I must marry again and for my father’s sake, I would prefer it to be a good match. Every day I spend here damages any chance I may have of making one,” explained the dutiful daughter.  
“Ah well, leave that to me, my dear. Would you mind if I looked in on you in a day or so?” asked Lady Genna, rising and smoothing down her dress.  
“No, I would welcome your company,” returned Lady Ailyn, also standing.  
“And I yours. For a well born lady, you certainly are…refreshingly different,” commented Lady Genna, walking back into Ailyn’s room.  
“Lady Genna, before you go, may I ask you something?” questioned Ailyn, pausing just inside the room.  
“Of course.”  
Ailyn looked to the side for a brief moment and then asked Lady Genna quietly, “Have you ever seen him happy?”  
“Happy? Yes, a few times,” conceded Genna, thinking back.  
“Only a few?” asked Ailyn with concern.  
Genna smiled at her a little sadly.  
“Tywin has been fighting an uphill battle his whole life to get out from underneath our father’s shadow and then to try and raise a family without his wife,” replied Genna gently. “He has had little to comfort him in the last thirty years except his daughter becoming queen although I think even that has soured for him now.”  
“He deserves better,” murmured Ailyn to the floor.  
“Yes, he does,” agreed Genna, taking her hand.  
The ladies looked at each other for a moment before Genna bid her good morning and stepped out.

Two days later, true to her word, Lady Genna visited Ailyn again although this time, she was not alone.  
“Good morning, Lady Ailyn. Let me introduce you to Lady Vi and Lady Tarkel,” said Lady Genna, looking at the two ladies with disdain.  
Lady Vi was a plump, middle aged woman, with jet black hair, small eyes and wearing a great deal of jewelry. Lady Tarkel was as thin as a spear with mousy brown hair and a rather large nose. Both ladies were dressed in overly showy dresses and both looked terrified of Lady Genna.  
Lady Ailyn curtseyed to them and they to her.  
“They have something they wish to say to you,” said Lady Genna, glaring at them imperiously.  
Both women glanced at the other and then began apologizing for their conduct in a tumult of words that Ailyn could barely understand. From what she could gather, these women were responsible for the majority of the rumors surrounding her and Lord Tywin.  
Lady Genna held up a hand and they both stopped speaking.  
“Yes, these women have made a sport of toying with your reputation and by extension, the Hand of the King’s. I have made their error known to them rather than give their names to Lord Tywin so that they may undo the damage they have wrought. They will now go forth and spread the word of your innocence and their mistake as eagerly as they once spread the opposite,” threatened Lady Genna, her voice going cold, “or I suspect Lord Tywin will ensure that your husbands will never be welcome in court again and relieve you both of your lying tongues.”  
Lady Vi was practically in tears and Lady Tarkel was shaking.  
“Go!” snapped Lady Genna.  
Both noblewoman nearly fell over each other in their hurry to flee from the room.  
Lady Ailyn bit her lip to keep back a very wide grin.  
“I don’t know if that was really necessary, Lady Genna,” said Ailyn, a smile pulling at her lips.  
“Of course it was necessary. There’s no point in having Lord Tywin for a brother if you don’t remind people just who he is occasionally” insisted Lady Genna.  
Ailyn thought she saw Genna wink at her and then Lord Tywin’s sister said, “It was also fun.”  
Ailyn allowed her smile to rip across her face.  
“Now if you’ll excuse me, my dear, I have a few other calls to make. Have a pleasant evening, Lady Ailyn,” waved Lady Genna as she swept out the door.  
Gana moved to close it, a careful smile on her own lips.  
“You enjoyed that didn’t you?” asked Ailyn playfully.  
“Not half as much as you did,” Gana shot back, with a grin.  
Ailyn laughed as Gana came to stand with her.  
“Except now I feel that I should speak with Lord Tywin. If those women work to clear my name but the Hand still summons me to his chamber every day, that will be two steps forward and one step back,” sighed Lady Ailyn.  
“Will you go to him?” asked Gana.  
On cue, a guard knocked on her door and informed Lady Ailyn that Lord Tywin wished to see her.  
Ailyn exchanged a look with Gana and then moved to follow the guard upstairs to the Hand of the King’s chambers.  
Lord Tywin was standing by the fireplace when she arrived, his hands clasped behind him, his back tense and straight as always. He turned to face her when she said his name.  
“Lady Ailyn,” said Lord Tywin, bowing to her.  
She noticed the beginnings of dark circles underneath his eyes as she came to stand beside him.  
“Are you not sleeping well, my lord?” asked Lady Ailyn, searching his face.  
He looked at her for a moment and then said quietly, “I am sleeping as well as I ever do here.”  
Before she could say anything further, Lord Tywin inquired after her brother.  
“He is healthy, my lord, thank you. The fever left no lasting damage,” replied Lady Ailyn with a smile.  
Lord Tywin nodded.  
“I am sorry for leaving you so abruptly the night of Tyrion’s wedding. I asked Lady Genna to make my apologies to you,” said Lady Ailyn, looking up at him.  
“Genna said you felt ill. Has Maester Pycelle been to see you?” asked Lord Tywin.  
“No it wasn’t that serious. I felt much better in the morning,” Ailyn reassured him.  
Lord Tywin gave her a searching look.  
“I heard several comments about you that night which displeased me. Do you know where this gossip is originating from?” demanded Lord Tywin.  
Ailyn thought about how terrified Lady Vi and Lady Tarkel had looked under Genna’s disdainful glare.  
“I believe Lady Genna has taken care of the court gossip, my lord,” answered Lady Ailyn with a small smile.  
“She has been to see you?” inquired Lord Tywin.  
“Yes a few times. I enjoy her company, my lord,” Lady Ailyn informed him.  
“She feels the same about you, I gather,” Lord Tywin remarked.  
There was a slight pause and then Ailyn decided to broach the subject she was dreading.  
“On the point of gossip my lord, there is something I wish to ask of you,” said Lady Ailyn, hesitantly meeting his gaze.  
Lord Tywin’s eyebrow arched up.  
“And what is that?”  
“You see, even if Lady Genna does manage to put a damper on the gossip spreading around the court, it will make little difference if you still send for me every day,” explained Lady Ailyn gently.  
Lord Tywin frowned at her.  
“You and I know there is nothing dishonorable in your requests but to an outside observer...surely you can see how it must look,” insisted Lady Ailyn.  
“You wish me to stop speaking to you?” asked Lord Tywin, his voice a little colder than usual.  
“Not entirely, my lord but perhaps less often…” Ailyn faltered under the sudden shift in his countenance.  
“Then I will not waste any more of your time this evening, my lady,” said Lord Tywin dismissively, turning away from her.  
“Please, my lord,” whispered Lady Ailyn urgently, reaching out to him.  
She froze under his look as he glanced back at her.  
Her throat started to close up as all warmth vanished from his eyes.  
“I am not saying this to distress you or because I want you to stop speaking to me. I must think of my future my lord,” pleaded Lady Ailyn.  
“It may come sooner than you think. Arrangements have been made with the Freys to get rid of the Stark boy,” said Lord Tywin coldly.  
Lady Ailyn took a step back from him.  
“But he is celebrating his wedding there, as a guest of Lord Frey,” whispered Lady Ailyn, a sinking feeling creeping over her.  
“He was a fool to break his promise to Lord Frey.”  
There was something sinister in his tone and look that told her it was the last mistake the young wolf would ever make.  
“But he is a guest…” began Lady Ailyn but Lord Tywin cut her off swiftly.  
“When I want your opinion, my lady, I will ask for it. You should go,” snapped Lord Tywin, nodding to the door.  
Lady Ailyn felt as though something very fragile had broken.  
Lady Ailyn’s mouth worked silently for a second and then she turned and moved swiftly to the door. She paused, her hand on the handle and looked back at him.  
“You have set a dangerous precedent, my lord. I pray it will not come back to haunt you.”


	18. The King's Wedding

“Is it true?” asked Lady Ailyn, sitting down in a well-cushioned chair after a long stroll around the palace.  
“Is what true, my lady?” queried Gana, coming over to stand near her mistress.  
“Robb Stark is dead?” clarified Lady Ailyn quietly.  
“Yes, my lady. And his mother too if the rumors are correct,” added Gana, pouring Ailyn a glass of wine.  
Lady Ailyn stared despondently at the floor and accepted the proffered glass silently, taking a sip and then setting it down.  
Gana frowned with concern at Lady Ailyn and then sat down in a chair beside her.  
“This is war, my lady,” said Gana gently.  
“I know, Gana. I know what’s at stake, I just…wish there was some way to settle this dispute without it tearing every family in the Seven Kingdoms apart,” murmured Lady Ailyn sadly.  
“Try to look at it this way, my lady; we are that much closer to going home,” reasoned Gana, clasping Ailyn’s hand comfortingly.  
Ailyn squeezed Gana’s hand in return with a warm smile.  
“I received a letter from Father and one from Mardyn this morning. I think I’ll go read them by the fountain,” decided Lady Ailyn rising and walking to her desk for the letters.  
“Is the small council meeting today?” asked Gana, taking away the wine glass. She knew the fountain was near the council room.  
“I believe it meets nearly every day,” answered Lady Ailyn, putting the letters in a pocket in her deep purple gown.  
Lady Ailyn paused by her desk, a pensive look crossing her face.  
“How many days has it been since you last spoke to him, my lady?” Gana inquired softly.  
“Five,” whispered Lady Ailyn with a quiet sigh, glancing at the vase of lavender and heather on the table. The flowers were replaced every other day without fail, even after Lord Tywin had dismissed her.  
“I’ll return later this afternoon, Gana,” said Lady Ailyn, as she strode to the door.  
Her two guards followed her out into the gardens but then retired to a nearby door when they saw her sit down on the edge of the fountain and take a letter from her pocket.  
There were two other ladies sitting on a bench far off to her right talking animatedly in hushed tones. Lady Ailyn smiled and nodded at them and they politely returned the gesture.  
At least they’ve stopped being openly judgmental.  
Lady Ailyn made herself more comfortable on the marble slab that surrounded the burbling fountain and took out Mardyn’s letter. She leaned forward slightly and let the fingertips of her left hand trail slowly in the cool water. Ailyn smiled as she read through Mardyn’s slightly exaggerated account of a daring ride through the woods on his new white pony: a gift from their father after her brother’s recovery. The boy was forming his letters well though she was sure Father had helped him with the spelling of a few words.  
Lady Ailyn was so enrapt in her little brother’s letter that she barely recognized the sound of approaching footsteps until they were quite close. Ailyn glanced up and then rose quickly to her feet, drying her hand on her dress and dropping into a curtsy.  
The Hand of the King was walking toward her on his way to the small council room, a quad of guards following in his wake. He cut a handsome figure in his fitted crimson tunic, black breeches and thigh boots, the golden Hand pin glinting on his chest in the sunlight. Lord Tywin’s green eyes were locked on her and he inclined his head to her as she straightened.  
“My lord Hand,” said Lady Ailyn as she rose, meeting his intense gaze.  
“My lady,” replied Lord Tywin, his tone distant but respectful.  
Lady Ailyn drew breath to speak again but Lord Tywin did not stop. She thought she saw something like longing flash into his eyes as he looked at her but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared that she couldn’t be sure. He strode past her across the courtyard and into the small council chamber without looking back. Ailyn watched him go and then sat back down, hiding her disappointment.   
She was happy to have seen him though the circles she had noticed under his eyes the last time they had spoken were deepening. Ailyn glanced over to her left at the sound of more voices. Lord Baelish and Lord Varys were talking as they both walked toward the small council chamber. From the opposite direction, Maester Pycelle’s hunched form moved slowly toward the door as well. When all the members had disappeared inside, a guard closed the door firmly behind them.  
Lady Ailyn pulled out the longer letter from her father and settled in to read.  
Willow Glen was faring better than most other cities in the Seven Kingdoms since it did not send men to fight. Their trade with the great cities across the Narrow Sea had never been more profitable. Several new civic systems had been implemented while she had been gone; among them were a few Lady Ailyn herself had suggested for maintaining a constant, clean water supply for all. The new piping system and water wheel had just been finished and tested; so far, it was an unqualified success.  
Lady Ailyn smiled and folded up the letter, secreting it back in her pocket. She stared off absently, her fingers trailing in the clear water next to her when a shadow fell across her. Ailyn started and looked up to see the rather harassed looking figure of Lord Baelish standing over her.  
“Lord Baelish, forgive me; I didn’t hear you approach,” apologized Lady Ailyn, rising and drying her fingers on the side of her gown.  
“Lady Ailyn might I have a word with you?” asked Lord Baelish.  
There was a slight edge to his voice that she had never heard before.  
“Certainly. What is wrong, my lord?” inquired Lady Ailyn, frowning.   
“Have you quarreled with Lord Tywin?” Lord Baelish asked bluntly.  
“I don’t see how that concerns you, Lord Baelish but no, we have not,” replied Lady Ailyn defensively, crossing her arms in front of her chest.  
“But you’ve stopped speaking?” Baelish pressed, stepping a little closer to her.  
“I merely requested that we not speak as often. Lord Tywin has chosen to stop all communication between us. May I ask the reason for these questions?” interrupted Lady Ailyn as Lord Baelish made to speak again.  
Lord Baelish glanced around as if fearful of being over heard and then said, “The Hand is becoming increasingly difficult to serve. He is being overly belligerent and stubborn,” muttered Lord Baelish.  
“And how is that different from how he usually behaves?” asked Lady Ailyn sarcastically.  
“He is making decisions that he may regret in the future,” began Lord Baelish. He continued speaking as Lady Ailyn tried to interrupt him again.  
“The King is getting married in two days, my lady. No one is interested in gossiping about you anymore. So for all our sakes, I suggest you resume doing… whatever it was you were doing for him,” insinuated Lord Baelish, stepping back and bowing.  
“Good day, Lord Baelish,” snapped Lady Ailyn coldly as he withdrew.  
She took a few breaths to get her anger under control when a soft voice said behind her, “The problem is my lady, he is not wrong.”  
She turned around and met the polite smile of Lord Varys.  
“About what?” Ailyn ground out.  
“The Hand of the King seemed to have a wider view of what the realm needed rather than just the elevation of his family when you were still on daily speaking terms with him, my lady,” offered Lord Varys gently, not wishing to offend her.  
“Really, Lord Varys I don’t think that I had anything to do with…” but she trailed off when Lord Varys raised a hand respectfully.  
“My lady, the day you spoke with him in the gardens, Lord Tywin made a decision that surprised all of us on his small council. I do not suggest that the idea to confiscate Lord Gardus’ shipping contracts was yours, but whatever you said, I am inclined to believe led him along the path to making that decision,” explained Lord Varys.  
Lady Ailyn was silent, waiting for him to make his point.  
“Though I doubt anyone here would believe it, I serve the realm, my lady. Therefore, I am in favor of your continued contact with the Hand of the King, not because it benefits the small council but because it may continue to benefit the Seven Kingdoms,” finished Lord Varys quietly.  
“Are you suggesting that…” began Lady Ailyn but Lord Varys shook his bald head.  
“I am suggesting nothing, my lady; merely offering an observation and an opinion,” the Lord of Whispers said, bowing to her politely. He moved away from her silently and she turned around half expecting Maester Pycelle to be standing there with his opinion but there was no one else in the courtyard.  
Lady Ailyn glanced at the small council chamber but its door remained closed. She wanted to go to Lord Tywin and speak to him but she was the one who had suggested they lessen their contact. It would be hypocritical if she demanded his daily attention again. Ailyn wrestled with her feelings for another moment before decided that her mental struggle should not be on display and walked quickly back to her room.

The next two days passed by more quickly than Lady Ailyn anticipated. To her mild surprise, neither Lady Genna nor Ser Kevan came to see her about Lord Tywin. If anyone could speak to the Lord of Casterly Rock’s change in attitude, surely his siblings were like to be most aware of it.  
Still, Lord Tywin did not send for her nor did she see him when she walked around the palace. The flowers continued to be replaced perhaps as a silent reminder that he had not forgotten her.  
The morning of the King’s wedding to Lady Margery, Gana helped Lady Ailyn slip into her favorite midnight blue gown. The neckline was wide and elegant with several inches of an intricate silver pattern encircling it. The bodice was pulled tight against her, contrasting with the wide flair of her skirts. The same silver pattern at her neckline slid around her hips, emphasizing her small waist. Gana clasped a strand of diamonds that Lord Silvyn had given to Ailyn for her eighteenth name day around her throat and placed several sparkling pins in her hair as well.   
“You are prettier than the evening sky, my lady,” said Gana approvingly as she stood back to look over her mistress for any small corrections.  
Lady Ailyn smiled.  
“Thank you, Gana. This was Lord Darren’s favorite gown as well,” remarked Lady Ailyn, smoothing her skirts.  
“He had good taste,” Gana offered, gently tucking back a stray curl.  
“In food and wine, yes,” said Ailyn, smiling.  
“In women as well,” quipped Gana kindly.  
Ailyn reached out and pulled Gana into a warm hug.  
Both women said nothing, not needing to.  
“I’d rather not go but I will be missed if I don’t,” muttered Lady Ailyn, letting go of Gana.  
“Then smile and dance and say the right things, then come back and tell me who was wearing the ugliest dress,” suggested Gana, stepping to the side to let Ailyn go past her.  
Ailyn laughed and agreed, the hem of her skirt rustling on the ground as she strode out. 

* * * * *

As Lady Ailyn hurried back to her room, surrounded by other panicking members of court, Queen Cersei’s anguished screams still echoed in her head.  
As she thought back, King Joffrey and Lady Margery’s wedding had been a glowing triumph. No expense had been spared in the decorations, the food, or the entertainment. Ailyn had eaten as much as she could and then danced even more than she wanted, being requested as a partner by so many. She had even run into Lord Tywin or rather, she had been walking and he stepped into her path. They exchanged the customary polite greetings and then both fell silent. The Hand of the King seemed content to simply look at her, as if he hadn’t seen her in years. Ailyn had opened and closed her mouth a few times, searching for something to say that wasn’t meaningless. All at once, he had moved closer to her and had begun to speak in a low voice, “Lady Ailyn, I…”  
But that was as far as he had gotten before the shouting started, and beneath the noise, a horrible choking sound…  
Lord Tywin had left her and run to the center of a group of people who had gathered around the King. All around her women were crying and men were shouting suggestions. Tywin bellowed some orders and then she was being pushed towards the door as the guards began ushering people out.  
She had heard Queen Cersei scream one last time and looked back, past the mass of people to where the Lannister family had gathered. Lord Tywin was restraining his daughter as she struggled and shouted Tyrion’s name, pointing an accusing finger at her startled looking brother.  
The last thing she saw was Lord Tywin’s stern face and haunted look as he raised his voice to the Queen. 

Ailyn reached her room and closed the door against the noise and confusion prevailing outside.   
“My lady, what’s wrong?” demanded Gana, running over to her.  
“I think the King has been murdered,” whispered Ailyn. “See what you can find out and be very careful.”  
Gana looked shocked but then pulled herself together and went out the servant’s door to do Ailyn’s bidding.  
Lady Ailyn paced around her room anxiously, glancing up at the ceiling occasionally. She sat down long enough for Din to remove her necklace and take all the pins out of her hair but then she was up again, walking out to her balcony, waiting by the door, standing by her fireplace.  
“Do you think Lord Tywin will send for you my lady?” asked Din quietly.  
“I don’t know,” worried Lady Ailyn, glancing at the door again.  
She ran her fingers through her brown hair distractedly and went out onto her balcony again. Ailyn didn’t have a view of Lord Tywin’s balcony but she could see one of his windows. Candlelight flickered in the glass. If he was not in his room now, his servants expected him shortly.  
Ailyn paced back inside and to her relief, Gana slipped back into the room.  
“Gana, what news? What’s going on?” asked Lady Ailyn, quickly coming up to her.  
“The Hand has ordered the arrest of all the wine bearers present at the wedding and at the Queen Regent’s insistence, Lord Tyrion has been taken to a cell as well,” said Gana, taking her mistress’ hands.  
“He ordered the arrest of his own son for the murder of his grandson?” gasped Lady Ailyn. “Tyrion would never raise a hand against his family.”   
“Nevertheless, he is being held for questioning. Lady Sansa is missing too,” Gana informed her.  
Lady Ailyn sank into a chair and Din brought her a glass of wine.  
“The King is dead?” asked Lady Ailyn softly, wishing to confirm it.  
Gana nodded.  
“They will crown Tommen in his place, I’m sure,” Lady Ailyn said to herself.   
“Will you let me help you out of your dress, my lady?” asked Gana gently.  
Ailyn didn’t answer her immediately, her mind spiraling away with anxious thoughts.  
“Has everyone retired to their rooms?” Ailyn asked, suddenly feeling that her dress was too tight.  
Gana nodded and moved to help Ailyn stand up.  
“Din, would you keep an eye on this hallway and let me know when Lord Tywin has returned to his room?” requested Ailyn as Gana plucked at the secure fastenings at the back of her dress.  
Din nodded and disappeared as silently as a shadow.  
Ailyn held the bodice of her dress as Gana finished undoing the last of the fastenings and went for a cream colored night dress. Ailyn slipped into it as her gown whispered to the floor. She shivered in the sudden cold and went to go stand by the fire. Gana brought her a warm robe and Ailyn sat down; she kept seeing the tortured look in Lord Tywin’s eyes as she was herded out of the main hall.  
He will not send for you. He is too proud.   
She sighed and watched the flames as one of the lower logs cracked and the rest shifted down. Gana moved about the room quietly, turning down the bed and lighting several more candles to keep away the darkness.  
“If you please my lady,” said Din quietly at Ailyn’s elbow.  
Ailyn looked up at her.  
“Lord Tywin and Ser Kevan are in the Hand’s chambers.”  
Ailyn nodded.  
“Thank you, Din.”  
The dark haired girl left and went to speak quietly with Gana.  
Ailyn got up and began to pace around absently. Din slipped out again and Gana urged her to sleep but Ailyn shook her head and went out to her balcony. The night air was almost brisk and she pulled her robe more tightly around her. Most of the buildings below her were lit up, people still bustling about.  
The death of a King does not make a difference to them.  
Ailyn rubbed her eyes and then went back inside by the fire. Gana had added another log to keep it blazing. She sat down on a chair and looked around her room, not really seeing it. Time trickled by and still she sat. Eventually, she moved over to her bed but sat on the edge, not feeling tired.   
After another hour, Gana came back in, looking a little sleepy. She came over to Ailyn and knelt at her feet.  
“My lady, what can I do?”  
“Nothing, Gana. I am trying to figure out what I should do,” replied Lady Ailyn, looking down at Gana’s worried face.  
“What are your choices?” asked Gana, trying to help.  
“Stay here and try to sleep or risk Lord Tywin’s displeasure and the gossip and go to him,” Ailyn said, holding out each hand as if to weigh the choices.  
“What do you want to do?” prodded Gana gently.  
“My head is telling me to stay here; that this is not my concern and to keep my honor safe,” Ailyn answered, looking to the side of Gana.  
“And your heart?”  
Ailyn looked at Gana for a moment, clasping her hands in her lap.  
“My heart is begging me not to let him spend this night comfortless and alone,” she said softly, looking at her doors.   
Gana smiled sadly and took Ailyn’s hands.  
“Then you must choose what is right for both of you,” said Gana, rising. “Remember, no one needs to know if you do decide to go to him.”  
Gana inclined her head in the direction of the alcove with the secret door. Ailyn looked over her shoulder at it then back at Gana. Her maid bent down and kissed the top of Ailyn’s head. With one last squeeze of the hands, she left Ailyn alone to make her decision.   
Ailyn turned on the bed and looked at the alcove, thinking. She didn’t even know if she could open the door to his room. Perhaps it was only meant to work one way. But then, the image of Lord Tywin, sitting next to her that night in Harrenhal before he knew she was looking at him, flashed into her mind: the crumpled, desolate statue, cracking under an invisible weight.   
Ailyn took a breath and then rose, closing her robe and snatching a large, nearby candle from its holder. She walked to the alcove and paused, staring at the cracks in the stone.  
“To hell with it,” she muttered as she reached for the latch.


	19. That Evening

Lady Ailyn pushed the heavy stone door open and moved the candle farther into the waiting darkness. After making sure she could open the door from the inside, she slowly made her way up the worn stone steps as it closed behind her. There were heavy cobwebs on the walls and the air was musty and decayed. She moved as fast as she dared, holding one hand protectively around the flame as she ascended. It was farther than she thought it would be but eventually, she reached the door at the top of the stairs.  
Ailyn held the candle down lower so she could search for a latch. She found a small opening in the stone door and after a careful insertion of her fingers, she felt a metal bar that she could just barely lever up. Lady Ailyn put the candle firmly in a dusty sconce on the wall and then, after listening for any sounds on the other side, clicked the lever up and very slowly opened the door.  
Inch by inch, she pressed, pausing when she was afraid the door had made a noise but there was no movement in the room beyond. There were few candles lit in the chamber and the first thing she could make out in the gloom was Lord Tywin’s desk in front of his balcony. The last time she had seen it, the whole surface had been covered with books and papers. Now the only thing that remained was the golden ink pot. The papers, books and maps were scattered on the floor around his desk, as though he had swiped one arm across it in anger. The mess, the disorderliness of it scared her.  
She pushed the door open wide enough to slip through and paused to get her bearings. Ailyn was next to one of his large wardrobes by the bed, on the far side of the fire place. She willed herself to move forward and peered around the side of the wardrobe. There was a fire blazing in the hearth past the bed and through an opening in the bed hangings, she could see his boots bent at an angle to suggest he was sitting in a chair near the fire. There was no one else in the room. Ailyn took a breath and then moved farther in, up to his bed and then around the end so she had a clear view of the fireplace.  
Lord Tywin was seated in a chair, his head bowed slightly, eyes staring into the flames. His hands gripped the ends of the chair arms as though he were afraid the chair would move. The Hand’s shoulders were rigid with tension. He gave no sign that he was aware of her presence. She moved past the bed and paused a little way behind him off to his right. Ailyn had no idea how to get his attention without startling him.  
“My lord,” she whispered gently, wrapping her arms around herself.  
Lord Tywin jerked around. He relaxed only slightly when he saw her. For a moment, he simply stared at her. She waited for him to speak and hoped he wouldn’t dismiss her.  
“You were not announced,” he accused, his gaze sharpening.  
She hesitated and then said quietly, “I did not come in by that door.”  
Lord Tywin frowned and then glanced over to the far wardrobe with sudden comprehension.  
He sighed, shaking his head and turned back around to face the fire.  
“Someday, I will stop underestimating you,” murmured Lord Tywin, his voice sounding a little more gravelly than usual.  
“I’m afraid on that day, I might disappoint you,” she replied softly, walking over to him.  
The Lord of Casterly Rock did not look up at her or offer any further conversation. She was slightly encouraged that he hadn’t sent her away. When the silence dragged on, she knelt down near him and carefully picked up his right hand. Ailyn turned it over so his palm was facing up and gently worked her thumbs into his warm palm. She felt his focus shift over to her but he did not pull his hand away. She pressed her thumbs into his hand and worked the large muscle at the base of his thumb.  
Finally, he asked curiously, “What are you doing?”  
Again, something in his voice sounded just a little off.  
She looked up and met his inquisitive gaze, then back down at his hand as she spoke.  
“I did this a few times for my husband when he was distressed and I was unsure of what to say to ease his pain,” Ailyn explained.  
Lord Tywin frowned at her.  
“My pain is not your responsibility.”  
Lady Ailyn glanced around the room and replied quietly, “There is no one else here.”  
He went silent again but continued looking at her.  
Ailyn replaced his hand on the arm of his chair and then stood up so she could kneel on the other side of him. She clasped his other hand in hers and began kneading his palm. A quick glance at the table next to her confirmed her suspicions. There was a half empty pitcher of wine and a goblet on the table and two more empty golden pitchers tossed carelessly beneath it. His eyes were sharp and his movements were steady but until he stood up, she wouldn’t know how badly off he was.   
After a moment, he turned his hand and curled his fingers around her wrist, stopping her movements. She looked up at him.  
“Why are you here?” asked Lord Tywin, staring down at her. He didn’t look angry, merely puzzled.  
“I didn’t…” she paused, looking at him and then continued, “I didn’t want you to be alone.”  
Lord Tywin’s eyes narrowed slightly.  
“That seems contrary to your desire not to speak to me anymore,” he murmured, still holding her wrist.  
“I’ve regretted that request every day for the last week. I knew I would not be able to rest tonight until I had seen you,” said Lady Ailyn gently, looking at him with concern.  
“I don’t want your pity,” barked Lord Tywin, dropping her wrist and looking back into the flames.  
Lady Ailyn stiffened as if he’d slapped her. She slowly got to her feet.  
“You will never have my pity, Tywin Lannister. I am offering my sympathy which I hope you realize is quite different,” she said sternly and turned to go.  
“No!”  
His voice was sharp and urgent.  
She looked back over her shoulder at him. Lord Tywin was on the edge of his chair, his hand flung out toward her. When he was sure he had her attention, he pulled his arm back and motioned to the chair next to him.  
Ailyn looked at the chair and then back at him. She didn’t move.  
“Please,” he whispered.  
She softened slightly. There were probably only a handful of people in all of Westeros who had heard him say that word.  
Ailyn slipped into the chair, still looking at him. Lord Tywin sat back a little and opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself.  
She gave him an encouraging look.  
He turned to face the fire again and said quietly, “I’ve wanted to speak to you. You are easier to talk to than most people here.”  
“If you send for me again, I will come,” she assured him.  
Lord Tywin met her eyes and nodded.   
He didn’t speak for some time.  
She glanced at the wine on the table and suggested gently, “You should try to get some sleep my lord. Your family will need you…” but Lord Tywin cut her off with a scoff.  
“My family,” he spat bitterly, his eyes going cold. He pushed himself out of the chair and moved, a little unsteadily, to the mantle where he braced himself.  
“My family will be the death of me,” he ground out. “It seems no matter how much I do, it’s never enough. This House will ruin itself despite my efforts.”  
Lady Ailyn got up and went to stand beside him.  
“You still have Tommen,” she reminded him gently.  
Lord Tywin clenched his jaw.  
“Yes, but he is too young. I can crown him and marry him off but he will not be able to father sons for several years at least. The throne will be in jeopardy until then,” explained Lord Tywin.  
“Not with you here, it won’t be,” she urged.  
He looked sideways at her to see if she was in earnest. His mouth quirked when he realized she was serious. Then he looked back into the flames, a sudden thought troubling him.  
“If ever the time was ripe for Stannis to attack King’s Landing again, it’s now. The fleet guarding the city is less than Lannisport’s or Pike’s. The throne has been brought into question again. Our forces guarding the city are depleted and the new recruits are not yet well trained,” Lord Tywin listed off the capitol’s deficiencies.  
“With what fleet? With what army, my lord? At least for tonight, don’t worry yourself like this,” pleaded Lady Ailyn, putting her hand on his arm. “You’ve just lost your grandson. You can take a little time to grieve.”  
“Grieving accomplishes nothing. I must see to it that House Lannister remains firmly in control of the Throne despite this setback.”  
Lady Ailyn winced at the coldness of his decision but she was beginning to understand that that was simply how he operated. The needs of the House came before anything and everything else.  
“They don’t deserve you,” she whispered quietly, looking at the fire.  
She felt him flash her a look and she glanced up at him, a little embarrassed.  
“I didn’t mean to say that aloud,” Ailyn admitted apologetically.  
Lord Tywin turned to face her, an inscrutable look in his eyes. He took a step toward her, closing the already small distance between them. For a moment, she thought he was going to pull her against him as he had that night in Harrenhal but he made no move to do so. Instead, Lord Tywin slowly raised his right hand and gently threaded some of her hair through his thin fingers, focusing on the long curls near her face that had been bleached golden by the sun. He simply stood there, rubbing the blonde hair between his forefinger and thumb; his sharp eyes suddenly far away. A sadness stole over his features.  
“I want you to wear your hair down,” he murmured, his eyes focusing on her again.  
“I didn’t realize you had an opinion about it,” she whispered back.  
“Promise me,” he insisted quietly, still holding a tendril between his fingers.  
“As you wish, my lord,” acquiesced Lady Ailyn, her eyes wide with surprise.  
How much wine had he had?  
Lord Tywin mistook her surprise for discomfort and removed his hand from her hair.   
“I made you a promise,” he said quietly, taking a step back from her and bracing himself on the mantel again.  
She smiled at him and nodded.  
He cleared his throat and walked back over to the table. Lord Tywin picked up the wine glass to take another drink but Lady Ailyn moved to his side instantly and clasped the goblet with both hands, restraining him.  
Lord Tywin arched an eyebrow at her.  
“Tomorrow will be a long and difficult day, my lord. It will be even worse with a splitting headache,” she reasoned, gently trying to ease the wine glass from his hand. He resisted at first but she remained firm.  
Reluctantly, he let her take the wine from him. She turned away and went to his side table. Ailyn took a fresh cup and filled it with water from a very ornate carafe. She brought it back to him and held it up for him to take.  
“Please,” she coaxed.  
Lord Tywin looked at the cup and then back at her before taking it and drinking. After one swallow, he made a noise in his throat and handed the cup back. He turned around and made his way, with a small bit of meandering, to the privy where he slammed the door.   
She waited a moment and then bent down and retrieved the two empty wine pitchers from underneath the table and set them down on the side board. She refilled the water goblet and placed it next to the half empty wine pitcher still on the table. With a quick glance at the privy door, Ailyn moved back to the secret entrance. The candle had burned down another quarter or so in her absence. She carefully picked it back up and swept down the stone steps to her chamber. It was empty. Ailyn went swiftly over to the chest she had brought with her from Willow Glen and rummaged around until she found a vial of Seracen’s Touch; more commonly known as the Drunkard’s Relief. She made her way back up the steps to his room and opened the door a little to listen, before opening it completely. The only sound that reached her was a wet sloshing noise. Ailyn stepped back inside and shut the door. Lord Tywin was standing in front of a small table near the privy washing his hands. She went back over to the table with the water glass and picked it up, still holding the vial in her other hand.   
Lord Tywin turned around and seemed surprised to see her.  
“Where did you go?” he asked, frowning.  
“Just back to my room for a second,” replied Lady Ailyn.  
“Here, take this,” she offered, holding the vial out to him.  
Lord Tywin took it from her but made no move to drink it, looking at it and her suspiciously.  
“It’s just a vial of Seracen’s Touch,” she explained.  
He uncorked the vial and sniffed it to confirm what she was saying but even then, he did not raise it to his mouth.  
Her face fell a little.  
“You still don’t trust me, do you?” asked Ailyn quietly.  
“Do you trust me?” he shot back inquisitively.  
She looked around his room in disbelief.  
“Lord Tywin, I’m standing in your bed chamber half clothed in the middle of the night and you’re asking if I trust you?”   
Lady Ailyn made an effort to keep her voice from going up several pitches.  
Lord Tywin started to say something but then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he raised the vial to his lips and drank it, grimacing at the taste.  
Ailyn smiled and traded him the water for the empty vial which she secreted away in her robe. He finished the water and gave it back to her. Lady Ailyn placed it on the table by the fire and then held out her hand for his.  
“Come. You need rest,” she urged.  
Hesitantly, he took her hand and she led him over to the far side of the bed. Ailyn turned to him and reached out to take the Hand pin off his tunic, pausing for approval. Lord Tywin nodded once and she careful pulled the pin out of the black leather. Ailyn put it down on the bedside table and turned back to face him. She gently started undoing the fastenings to his tunic when he seized her wrists.  
“I don’t need…” he began with a frown, but she cut him off.  
“I’m not doing this because you need it,” replied Lady Ailyn quietly, not taking her hands away.  
He had no response to that as he searched her face.  
Ailyn moved her fingers and continued undoing the small hooks though Lord Tywin still held her wrists. He let go when it became too awkward for her to move her hands. She gingerly opened his tunic and helped him as he shrugged out of it. Ailyn tossed it on a nearby chair and then untied the scarf of black cloth around his throat. That too was thrown on the chair. Lord Tywin tensed a little when she wrapped her arms around him but he relaxed again when all she did was tug his shirt out of his breeches. Ailyn put her hand gently over his heart and asked him to sit down on the bed. To her surprise, he complied without complaint. Ailyn bent down and unlaced his boots, tossing them by the chair haphazardly. She didn’t want it to look like someone had been here with him.  
“There,” she said softly, rising, “you can lie down.”  
She turned away to start closing the curtains around his bed but with a swiftness that she wouldn’t have given him credit for, he clasped her wrist with one hand and the side of her waist with the other, stopping her.  
Ailyn put her hands over his, looking down at him in surprise.  
“Don’t leave.”  
She heard the unspoken ‘me’ as clearly as though he’d said it aloud. There was something ragged and hopeless in his tone which stopped her more than his words. She blushed and looked away, unsure of what he was asking for.  
Lord Tywin read her confusion and shook his head.  
‘No, not…I’ve had too much wine,” he muttered, still holding onto her. “Just…stay.”  
It was as close to pleading as the Lord of Lannister had ever come.  
Ailyn met his green eyes and gave him a small smile, appreciating what this request was costing him.  
“I will stay, my lord. Let me tend to the fire,” she said gently, removing his hands.   
He watched her intently but made no further effort to stop her. She heard the rustle of bedding as she went back over to the fire and banked it so it would eventually burn out. She tugged the fur rug near the hearth back a little as a precaution and then blew out most of the remaining candles in the room. Ailyn came back over by the bed and pulled the heavy curtain closed on his side. Lord Tywin had gotten into bed but had propped himself up on his elbow to watch her. She moved to the end of the bed and pulled that one closed as well and then the one closest to the fire. Ailyn let go of the curtain when it was half closed on her side and then sat down on the bed to take off her slippers.  
In her head, Ailyn could hear her father berating her; she could see the court pointing and laughing at her. She knew what it would mean for her if anyone entered the Hand’s chambers now and found her here. With that knowledge, Ailyn stood up, gathered up her night dress and robe so she could climb onto the bed. Tywin eased himself farther under the covers and lay down, facing her. She picked up the pillow on her side and moved it closer to him, making herself comfortable on top of the bedding next to him. In the dim light, she could see his eyes still watching her intently, as though she might disappear if he blinked. When she had settled in near him, he reached down and clasped her hand, bringing it up to his chest and pressing it against him.   
“That door,” murmured Lord Tywin sleepily.  
“Yes?”   
“I never would have used it. I just wanted…you close by,” he finished hazily.  
She smiled at him.  
“I know,” she whispered.  
She watched his eyes slowly start to close. He struggled for a time but inevitably, he dropped off. His breathing deepened and his grip on her hand relaxed. Ailyn stayed next to him, unmoving. The fire cracked loudly once and his eyes snapped open again, his gaze fixed on her to reassure himself that she was still there, his hand pressing hers.   
She smiled at him as he slowly drifted off again. Ailyn waited until she was sure he was sleeping soundly and then very gently, eased her hand out of his. When he didn’t wake, she carefully moved back and turned her pillow lengthwise next to him. Slowly, she eased herself back off the bed and silently closed the curtain almost completely.  
In the dim light, Ailyn went over to his desk and very cautiously, began replacing all the books and papers. She knew he had an image to maintain and this display of anger would embarrass him if any one saw it. Ailyn couldn’t read any of the papers in the dying light so she made a few piles, trying not to shuffle them too much. As she was putting a short, golden candlestick back down, it clinked against the wood and she froze, holding her breath. There was a muffled snort and a restless rustling from inside the curtains but he did not call out.   
Ailyn let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and silently walked back over to the bed on the side she had been laying. She pulled back the curtain a few inches and looked in on him. Her throat closed a little. Lord Tywin was still asleep but he had flung an arm over the pillow she had been lying on and pulled it against him.  
Genna was right, she thought. He did need things but he would never admit to them.   
She dipped her feet back into her slippers and with one last glance around his room, she left, pulling the secret door firmly closed behind her.


	20. Breaking Storm

Gana was sitting with Ailyn at breakfast the next morning when she asked about the previous evening.  
“Did you go to him last night?” her maid asked quietly.  
Ailyn nodded.  
“He was upset,” she said, remembering the tension in his shoulders and hands.  
“He didn’t hurt you, my lady?” Gana questioned anxiously.  
“No. Though he was a little worse for wine, he was still…proper,” observed Ailyn with a smile.  
Gana quirked an eyebrow at her.  
“If I didn’t know better, my lady, I would say you almost sound disappointed.”  
“Nothing will happen between us, Gana. We are not married and I do have principles,” Ailyn reminded her maid.  
“Ah, well I remember a slightly different train of reasoning when you went to Lord Darren before your marriage,” ribbed Gana in good humor.  
“That was different; we were engaged. I have no expectation of that here,” reasoned Ailyn, rising.  
Gana made no reply but looked pensively at her mistress.  
Ailyn chose a light blue gown for the day and when she was dressed, she sat down for Gana to do her hair. Her maid raised an eyebrow at Lady Ailyn’s request to leave it down but she decided to say nothing.  
Lady Ailyn opened the door to make her way to the main hall when one of the guards outside her room stopped her.  
“If you please, my lady; Lord Tywin wishes to see you.”  
Ailyn nodded and followed him up to the Hand’s chambers. One of his guards opened the door and preceded her inside. Lady Ailyn walked in a few paces but remained by the door.  
Lord Tywin was seated at his desk flanked by both Lord Varys and Lord Baelish.  
“…eastern watch has not checked in at his post for the last few days. I suggest sending a ship out to see that all is well,” Lord Varys was saying as the knight approached Lord Tywin’s desk.  
“Lady Ailyn, my lords,” said the guard bowing to Lord Tywin.  
Three sharp pairs of eyes glanced over at her and she returned a small smile.  
“Send our fastest sail out to East Tower and make sure nothing is amiss,” ordered Lord Tywin, rising. Lord Varys and Lord Baelish each retreated a step and then bowed to him respectfully. They also bowed to Lady Ailyn as they walked past her on their way out. She curtseyed to them both. Then she was alone with Lord Tywin.  
“Good morning my lady,” said Lord Tywin, the early sun glinting in the golden edging on his tunic. He looked a little tired but otherwise not a hair was out of place. Lady Ailyn approached his desk.  
“My lord,” she replied with a delicate curtsy, “I trust you slept well?”  
“Well enough,” he answered, watching her.  
He gestured for her to walk out onto the balcony with him.  
Ailyn nodded and they moved past the sheer curtains out into the warm morning breeze. They walked to the railing together and then stood for a moment in silence. Lord Tywin looked over at her and observed: “Your hair is down.”  
Lady Ailyn looked back at him with a smile.  
“At your request, my lord.”  
Lord Tywin seemed pleased that she had acquiesced.  
“You hair is long enough to be left down without comment now,” was his justification.  
Ailyn nodded and looked out over the harbor.  
After a moment, Lord Tywin began to speak quietly.  
“Did you…” but he stopped himself.  
Ailyn glanced sideways at him and gently prompted him to continue.  
“Did you replace the papers on my desk?” asked Lord Tywin, nearly under his breath.  
“Yes. I assumed you would not wish anyone to see that you had given in to a fit of anger. In this place, in your position, I understand that you must be in control at all times, regardless of your true feelings,” explained Lady Ailyn softly.  
She saw his jaw working out of the corner of her eye, as if he were trying to speak. Instead, he rested his hand lightly over hers on the rail for a moment to acknowledge what she had done for him.  
“I appreciate what you risked to come to me last night when I did not ask it of you. I would not have you do it again, regardless of the circumstances,” cautioned Lord Tywin, returning his hand to the rail in front of him.  
Ailyn looked down at the struggling city below her and agreed, “As you wish, my lord.”  
Lord Tywin’s guard cleared his throat behind them.   
“If you please my lord, your council is assembled,” offered the man as Lord Tywin turned on him.  
The guard left and Lady Ailyn turned to face Lord Tywin.  
“If you will excuse me, my lady, preparations must be made for Tommen’s wedding and the trial for Joffrey’s murder,” requested Lord Tywin, holding out his arm for her to precede him back inside.  
She bowed her head and walked back into his room. Ailyn curtseyed to him one last time and then stepped out.

Tommen’s marriage to Lady Margery was hurried to the edge of distaste. Lady Ailyn marveled at the girl’s unflappable smile and good humor. She seemed for all the world just as pleased to be marrying the younger brother of her former fiancée even though the boy was ten years her junior. Ailyn was pleased that ambition had never driven her to such ends. The mood of the ceremony and the accompanying feast was a little tense. Though the Tyrells were marrying into House Lannister, neither family seemed particularly pleased about it; nor did they trust each other.   
Ser Jaime spent the evening close to the new King’s side and thus, close to his sister, Cersei. If the former Queen was in pain over the loss of her son, she did not show it. Lord Tywin sat beside Mace Tyrell; both men looked stern and grim.   
There was some dancing after the feast was over but Lady Ailyn slipped from the hall after it began, not wishing to be a part of the farce any longer.

Then, came the days of the trial. Lord Tywin sat at the Head Table with Mace Tyrell and Oberyn Martell. They sat through the confessions and broken pleadings of a few wine bearers each day. Some were dismissed; others were kept for further questioning. On the third day, one choked on his own blood as he was speaking and fell to the hall floor, unmoving. His corpse was dragged away. Each day, Tyrion was questioned as well though the questions were starting to tend less towards his motive for murder and more about his life choices.   
One day, Lady Sansa’s dark haired maid was brought forward as a witness and was forced to explain to the court in detail all the demands Tyrion had paid her for. The girl was not kind to him and even from the balcony, she could see Tyrion’s anguish at her betrayal of his trust. The girl then made a callous joke about Tyrion wanting her to call him a ‘giant’ which shook the entire court with mirth. The only one who showed no sign of amusement was Lord Tywin.  
Ailyn felt her own cheeks grow warm with shame as she watched the court laugh at Tyrion. The way he was glaring up at Lord Tywin sent a chill down her spine. Lord Tywin merely glowered back down at his son.  
“Silence,” roared Lord Tywin suddenly, and instantly the noise died down to a few bold whispers.  
“Take the prisoner back to his cell. This matter will be investigated further tomorrow,” announced Lord Tywin, motioning to a nearby King’s guard.  
Tyrion was escorted back to the dungeons and the spectators in court began to disperse in search of other amusements.  
Lady Ailyn moved down the stairs of the balcony toward the doors to the dungeons. Groups of people moved past her but none stopped to speak with her. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves before descending into the dungeon, trying not to think about her own imprisonment several weeks ago.  
She made it halfway down the damp, broken stairs before she was accosted by two guards coming back up.  
“I would like to see Lord Tyrion,” Ailyn said with as much authority as she could muster.  
“I’m sorry, my lady; no one is allowed to see him,” returned the man, making no move to let her through.  
Ailyn considered using Lord Tywin’s name to get down to see him but then decided against it. She turned on her heel and walked quickly back up the steps into the warm, candlelit evening.  
After a moment’s indecision, Lady Ailyn turned down the hall and then went up the many steps to the Hand of the King’s chambers.  
“He has guests, my lady,” the guards outside the Hand’s chambers informed her.  
“Then I will wait,” she replied simply. Ailyn moved off down the hall to a window and looked out without really seeing anything, her mind a storm of indignation and confusion.  
After an hour, Mace Tyrell exited from the Hand’s chambers and Ailyn went back to the guards and demanded admittance. One went inside to announce her presence but she walked in after him impatiently before he could speak.  
Lord Tywin had been walking back to his desk. He turned around in annoyance at the intrusion. His glare did not lessen when he saw her. The guard looked from his lord to Lady Ailyn in confusion and Lord Tywin dismissed him with a flick of his hand.  
Ailyn waited until the guard had departed before speaking.  
“My lord is this really the best way to carry on a trial for the King’s murder?” she demanded, trying not to let his glare deter her.  
“Justice must be seen to be done, my lady,” said Lord Tywin with forced patience.  
“What justice? You are humiliating your son and ignoring other, more likely options,” pressed Lady Ailyn, taking a step closer to him.  
“Joffrey was poisoned and Tyrion was seen holding his wine goblet directly after his death,” began Lord Tywin but she interrupted him.  
“So now you are suddenly trusting your daughter’s opinion again even though it puts your son’s life at risk? Tyrion did not pour the wine himself; two of the wine bearers that were brought for questioning today could barely stand. They will die from torture before the truth can be found,” reasoned Lady Ailyn, trying to keep the anger from her voice.  
“Be careful, my lady. I will listen to your opinions so long as you do not overstep your bounds,” warned Lord Tywin.  
“There were hundreds of people at the wedding, any one of them could have slipped something in his goblet,” Ailyn tried again.  
“It would not be feasible to question every single member of the court,” snapped Lord Tywin, losing his patience.  
“So Tyrion will suffer and perhaps die because you don’t have time to make a proper investigation? My lord, how can you treat him like that? He’s your son!” exclaimed Lady Ailyn indignantly.  
“Stop calling him that!” snarled Lord Tywin with such coldness it took her a few beats to recover.  
“He stands accused of murder and must be held accountable. It would not be the first time,” said Lord Tywin darkly.  
Lady Ailyn frowned.  
“He’s killed someone before?” asked Lady Ailyn.  
Lord Tywin looked off in the distance for a brief moment before saying, more to himself than to her, “My wife.”  
Lady Ailyn’s eyes opened wide as she caught her breath.  
“I thought your wife died giving birth to him?” countered Lady Ailyn quietly.  
“That’s what I said,” replied Lord Tywin harshly.  
Lady Ailyn’s lips moved soundlessly.  
“You blame him for that?” she managed to choke out in horror.  
Lord Tywin merely gave her a disappointed look.  
“You want him to die for your wife’s murder, not the King’s.”  
The statement only sounded more horrible when said aloud.  
“Amazing,” breathed Lady Ailyn, staring at him.  
Lord Tywin narrowed his green eyes at her.  
“What is?” he snapped, impatiently.  
“That you can go from being a man I think I know and understand to a complete stranger in the space of a conversation,” finished Lady Ailyn incredulously.  
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” said Lord Tywin dismissively.  
“My lord, you cannot blame a child for the death of its mother. Such a thought never crossed my mind when Mardyn was born,” Lady Ailyn continued, still staring at him in disbelief.  
“Because you blame yourself,” Lord Tywin shot back.  
She winced at the accuracy of his claim.   
Ailyn met his sharp gaze and could only shake her head judgmentally.  
“If you are ever a parent, my lady, then you can offer advice on how I should treat my children. Until that day comes, you are not qualified to speak on the subject,” said Lord Tywin coldly.  
Her stomach twisted at his words. She felt as though they were exchanging barbs that first night she had dined with him in camp outside Willow Glen. Ailyn knew he could be deliberately hurtful when he wished but she had not thought he could still lash out at her like this. She grew defensive as her pain shifted to anger and disgust.  
“Your wife died giving you another son. How dare you treat her sacrifice so callously?” seethed Lady Ailyn.  
Lord Tywin clenched his jaw, a vein flickered at his temple. He drew a breath to snarl at her but she turned on her heel and strode for his door. She heard him move behind her and tried to quick-step away from him but he grasped her upper arm tightly and spun her around to face him.  
Ailyn instantly began to struggle against his grip, pushing back on his chest.  
“Take your hands off me…”   
“Don’t ever mention…”  
Lord Tywin and Lady Ailyn spoke simultaneously, their voices raised in anger.   
But their argument was interrupted by a sound that froze them both.  
Outside, the bells of the city began clanging out their alarum.  
Lady Ailyn and Lord Tywin looked out to the balcony and then back at each other. Lord Tywin let her go and ran swiftly to his balcony, Lady Ailyn close on his heels. They ran to the end of the balcony and looked out over the harbor.  
The sun was setting in a bloody pool of red light on the sea as ship after ship closed in on the harbor. All of the sails were white, without sigil, except for the lead ship.   
“Stannis,” growled Lord Tywin.


	21. Nght Fires

Even in the dying light of the blood red sun, Stannis’ fiery heart sigil stood out clearly from the white background of the sailcloth.  
“Whose ships are those?” Lady Ailyn gasped, staring at the plain white sails following Stannis’ flagship into the harbor.  
Lord Tywin didn’t answer her. Instead, he reached over and clasped her shoulders, turning her to face him. All violence was gone from his grasp and his countenance held no trace of his previous anger; instead, there was only anxiety.  
“Go to the Maiden’s Tower and stay there,” ordered Lord Tywin, looking earnestly into her face.  
Ailyn didn’t pull away from him this time; she didn’t feel threatened.  
She nodded, meeting his eyes.  
“Promise me,” he insisted urgently.  
“I will,” she assured him.  
Once she agreed, he moved his hand to her lower back and urged her forward.  
“Go. Quickly.”  
She fled back into his chamber but stopped as she was nearing the door and looked back at him. Lord Tywin had removed his Hand pin and was already undoing the fastenings of his doublet in order to get his armor on. He paused and looked at her impatiently. Behind her, a loud, uneven cadence of fists pounding on the door added to the din of the ringing bells.  
“Take care,” said Lady Ailyn, over the noise, looking at him meaningfully.  
Before he could reply, she turned and flung open the doors, stepping back to get out of the way of Ser Jaime, Ser Kevan and a handful of other knights as they barged in. None of them gave her a second glance as she slipped out behind them and ran back to her room. Another small troupe of guards passed her on the stairs.  
Outside her room, the two guards who had been with her since she arrived in King’s Landing were looking about nervously. Both relaxed slightly when they saw her coming toward them.  
“My lady, we must get you to the Maiden’s Tower,” began the dark haired one but she waived him off.  
“Fifteen minutes then we’ll go,” she said, pulling open the door and walking in.  
Gana and Din looked over at her in relief. Gana had already belted on her own set of daggers and laid out Lady Ailyn’s bow and daggers.  
“Gana, get my dress. Din, loosen my corset and braid my hair,” ordered Lady Ailyn, shrugging quickly out of her gown and letting it drop to the floor. Gana went to her wardrobe and pulled out the dress she knew her mistress wanted while Din deftly loosened Ailyn’s laces so she could move more easily. Then, Din went behind Ailyn to braid her hair while Gana appeared in front of her bearing an iron grey dress in both arms. Ailyn smiled and touched the silver hawk emblazoned on the bodice.   
“Are you sure, my lady?” asked Gana hesitantly.  
“This is the dress Lord Darren and I made together. The hidden metal plating was his way of protecting me when he was not at my side. I will need that reassurance in the coming hours,” explained Lady Ailyn quietly, holding her arms out so Gana could help her slip it on.  
“But…this is also the dress you asked to be buried in,” whispered Gana worriedly.  
Ailyn shared a look with her maid and friend.  
“Should the worst happen… I am merely saving the Silent Sisters the trouble. But I do not think it will come to that. I have faith in Lord Tywin,” said Ailyn stepping into the dress and helping Gana pull it up. Din finished her hair and helped Gana lace up the back of the dress. It was heavier than Ailyn remembered but she soon adjusted to its weight.  
Gana handed Ailyn her belt with her daggers and Ailyn strapped it tightly to her waist. Ailyn frowned suddenly and turned to Din.  
Lady Ailyn bent down and pulled a dagger from her boot and held it out for Din.  
“I don’t want you to be unarmed Din. Please, take this,” offered Lady Ailyn.  
Din shook her head ‘no.’  
Ailyn opened her mouth to insist but Din held out her own hands, and with a sharp flick of her narrow wrists, a thin, sharp blade appeared in each hand. Ailyn looked up at the girl in surprise. Din merely smiled; a knowing, chilling smile. With another rapid movement, the blades were gone.  
“Now I know why you insisted on long sleeves even in the south,” muttered Gana in admiration.  
Ailyn smiled at her.  
She went for her quiver and bow and then to the door.  
“Lead on,” she said to the rather surprised looking guards.  
They moved swiftly down the hall. Everywhere, there was confused shouting and noise. The sun had gone down and the castle glowed in the firelight. They followed another highborn lady and her sobbing daughter up the stairs to the Maiden’s Tower. The entry way was barred by a heavy oaken door and flanked in front of it were at least twenty guards. The door was partially open and Lady Ailyn could see women already clustered inside looking terrified. Her guards took up posts with the others and Lady Ailyn steeled herself a little before stepping inside with the other women.  
The room was fuller than she was expecting but then, there were more guests than usual in the palace due to the weddings. At her entrance, much of the commotion in the room died down as all the women turned to look at her. Most looked merely shocked or affronted. Queen Cersei, though she was wearing a corset made of gold outside her dress, laughed not so quietly into her wine cup. Only Lady Genna was grinning at her. Lady Ailyn curtseyed to all of them and then went over to one of the window slits. The courtyard below was a hive of movement. She could hear horses clattering and neighing and the unsettling sounds of sword fighting already drifting over from nearer the harbor.  
Ailyn glanced over at the door that was still open. Din had placed herself unobtrusively next to it while Gana had followed her to the window.  
“How long before they think to close the door?” murmured Gana.  
“If it’s still open in a quarter of an hour, I’ll close it myself,” Ailyn whispered back.  
Most of the women had begun talking again in low voices. There was a growing circle on the other side of the room of women and girls who were praying. The two Queens, Margery and Cersei, were seated side by side sharing a flagon of wine. Some were still staring blatantly at her.  
After a short time, the guards closed the door to the Tower and Din deftly slid the bolts into place. And then they waited. There was an occasional explosion which startled everyone but from where they were, Ailyn couldn’t make out what was happening below. Moonlight and firelight caught the metal plating on the soldiers and swords below but they were too far away to tell who was winning.  
A movement on the wall near the tower off to Ailyn’s right caught her eye. Ailyn squinted in the darkness. Perhaps the light was playing tricks on her but she thought she could make out more than a dozen shapes on the wall attaching the Tower to the rest of the palace.  
“Gana, do you see that?” whispered Lady Ailyn quietly to Gana, not wanting to alarm anyone until she was sure. Gana took her place at the window and looked out into the darkness. She watched for a few beats and then replied in an equally low voice, “I can’t be sure.”   
“Should we alert the guards?” asked Gana, turning her head to look at her mistress.  
Lady Ailyn looked over Gana’s head out into the darkness then over at the heavy door, weighing the options.   
“To be safe, yes I think I will,” determined Ailyn, turning around to do so. However, unbeknownst to Ailyn, Cersei had walked up behind her and now stood in her path to the door.  
Lady Ailyn paused and took a small step back to curtsey.  
“Forgive me, Your Grace, I did not hear you,” apologized Lady Ailyn, straightening to meet the Queen’s snide gaze.  
“You do realize how ridiculous you look,” said the Queen, eyeing Lady Ailyn’s bow and daggers.  
Ailyn looked pointedly at Cersei’s golden corset.  
“My armor is no different than yours, Your Grace,” she replied evenly.  
Cersei’s green eyes narrowed.  
“We have guards to protect us.”  
“Indeed we do, but should they all chance to be killed, we are on our own. In the event of that occurring, I would rather be prepared than not,” reasoned Ailyn, her fingers itching to go to a dagger.  
Cersei laughed derisively again.  
“And how many men have you killed, Lady Ailyn?” demanded the Queen patronizingly.  
“Twenty one, Your Grace, including the man who tried to murder your lord father,” Lady Ailyn shot back, trying desperately to keep her anger under control.  
The smug smile slid off the Queen’s face but a new, cold glare replaced it almost instantly.  
“And will you die for me, if the situation arises?” prodded Cersei in a dangerous voice.  
The two women glared at each other for a tense minute.  
“Let us hope it does not come to that, Your Grace. If you will excuse me, I need to have a word with the guards,” she answered, sidestepping away from the Queen.  
“How dare you turn your back…” Cersei began to snap at Lady Ailyn but suddenly, alarmed shouts and the sound of blades being drawn filled the room.  
All the women went silent and Ailyn motioned Din away from the door. She complied readily and came over to stand near Gana. The jarring noise of men in pitched battle grew in intensity. Two girls off in the left hand corner of the room started crying. Several others began to pray in earnest. The rest remained motionless, staring in mute horror at the door.  
What came next was worse.  
A long silence stretched over them.  
Lady Ailyn looked at Cersei, who finally looked mildly concerned; at Genna, who was frowning; and then at Queen Margery, who was biting her lips and trying to look brave.  
Then a frantic pounding on the door made them all jump.  
“Queen Cersei? Please open the door. The Tower is nearly lost. You must be moved to safety!” cried a masculine voice from the other side of the door.  
Queen Cersei moved forward to answer the request but Lady Genna and Lady Ailyn hurried to stop her. Ailyn caught the poisonous look Margery, the other Queen, shot at Cersei’s back before it was replaced with a vaguely curious expression.  
“Wait, Cersei,” whispered Genna, taking her niece’s arm.  
Cersei looked at her aunt in mild annoyance.  
“How do you know those are Lannister guards speaking?” asked Lady Ailyn coming to stand with them several feet from the door.  
The Queen looked taken aback, as if the thought would never occur to her.  
“Who is your commanding officer?” demanded Lady Genna of the men outside the door.  
There was an unsettlingly long pause and then a voice called out, “Lord Stafford Lannister.”  
Cersei Lannister frowned and Lady Genna shook her head, “My cousin has been dead for almost a year.”  
“I suggest you move away from the door, Your Grace,” said Lady Ailyn, her hand going to rest on the dagger at her side.  
With her hand still on the Queen’s arm, Lady Genna and Cersei began to back away from the door.  
“What’s going on?” cried a frightened lady from behind them. Several other women called out fearful questions, and then the Maiden’s Tower was buzzing with terrified talk.  
A loud bang on the door caused several girls to scream loudly. Then, there was another, and another as the men outside tried to break down the door.  
Lady Ailyn looked around to Gana and Din. Both girls’ eyes had gone wide. They were also standing beside a sturdy table with several plates of food on it.  
“The table!” shouted Lady Ailyn above the noise.  
Her maids instantly went to opposite ends of the table while Ailyn unceremoniously swept the food onto the floor.  
“What are you doing?” someone shouted at her.  
“More guards will come for us,” cried another.  
Ailyn ignored them and gripped the table edge firmly in her hands as did her maids. She counted to ‘three’ and together they slid the heavy table several feet toward the door.  
Ailyn looked over her shoulder at a stunned knot of three younger women standing nearby.  
“You three, come over here and help us!” demanded Lady Ailyn waving them over.  
None of them moved but when Ailyn shouted “Now!” they scrambled to the table edge. Together, they managed to maneuver it against the heavy oak door.  
Lady Ailyn turned to Lady Genna and Cersei who were still standing nearby.  
“I think you should consider taking the side door and fleeing, Your Grace. They asked specifically for you,” said Ailyn.  
“I will not run,” snapped Cersei peevishly.  
“You are no good to your father dead, Cersei,” chided Lady Genna, who was still holding onto her niece’s arm.  
“They’ll never get through that door before reinforcements arrive,” argued the Queen who hadn’t budged despite the commotion going on around her.  
On cue, the wood of the door made an ugly splitting sound and a small web of cracks appeared near one of the bolts. Gana, Din and the three other girls leaned against the table, pushing it flush to the door.  
“What makes you think any will arrive? Any barriers we put up will only hold so long. If it breaks down completely…” Lady Ailyn trailed off.  
“Is there no way to alert other guards to our situation?” asked Lady Genna over the increased sound of banging and sobbing women.  
Lady Ailyn looked around the room, taking stock of everything to hand. An idea gradually took shape.  
After much shouting and coercing, Lady Ailyn managed to find four women who were equal to the task.  
“I want you to take the sheets off these beds, set one end on fire and let it trail out the window. Hold onto it as long as you can, then let it go and start over with a fresh sheet. This tower is high enough that someone must see it,” explained Lady Ailyn hurriedly, gesturing for them to use windows on opposite sides of the tower.  
They all looked afraid but determined and that was all Ailyn needed.  
Meanwhile, Queen Margery had come to stand with Lady Genna and was helping to urge Cersei to leave.  
“The King, my husband, needs you Cersei. You must do this for his sake,” argued Queen Margery as several more cracks appeared in the Tower door.  
Half the women in the Tower had already fled out the side door. The other half were standing around waiting for direction from one of the Queens or were too terrified to move.   
Cersei Lannister shot Lady Ailyn one last baleful glare and then turned to leave with Queen Margery, calling for the remaining women to join them. Lady Genna didn’t budge.  
“You must come with us. Tywin would never forgive me if something happened to you,” urged Genna, looking at her with concern.  
Lady Ailyn smiled at her.  
“I’m sure he’s been angry with you before. You’re family,” replied Ailyn hurriedly, looking at the door.  
“Please, Ailyn. He…he needs you,” insisted Lady Genna taking her arm.  
“He needs his family more. I’ll try to hold them back as long as I can. Go,” commanded Lady Ailyn turning away from her.  
“You can’t mean to sacrifice yourself! It’s not your responsibility to stay,” barked Genna, in a tone remarkably like her brother’s.  
Lady Ailyn turned to look at Lady Genna.  
“If I don’t then who will? If I am lucky, I may be able to lessen their numbers. If not, then I will be with my husband again. Take those women with you,” said Ailyn gesturing to the ones holding the sheets out the window. She turned to the other women helping her maids hold the table against the door and told them to go. They readily ran for the door.  
“Please!” begged Lady Genna as the wood near the top bolt splintered alarmingly.  
Ailyn took her hands impatiently.  
“I have no regrets. Tell Lord Tywin…” she paused and looked to the side, searching for words as the battering on the door pounded in her ears.  
“Tell him that, I’ve felt more alive in the last few months than I have in the last four years,” confessed Lady Ailyn, squeezing Genna’s hands with a warm smile.   
Ailyn repressed the sudden pang she felt as she realized the words were true and not just something kind to say. It surprised her and confused her in a way she didn’t have time to analyze. There was a louder bang and the table Gana and Din were bracing themselves against, jumped back a few inches.   
“Please go,” insisted Ailyn, dropping Genna’s hands and turning to her own maids.  
Ailyn crouched down and helped them shove the table back against the door. She caught Genna’s sad, green eyes one last time before she vanished through the doorway. Ailyn looked at her maids.  
“I can’t ask you to stay with me,” said Ailyn, through gritted teeth as she pushed on the table.  
“You don’t have to ask,” replied Gana loyally, not moving.  
Din merely shook her head and stayed where she was.  
Ailyn swallowed the knot in her throat as the top bolt gave way and the door bent in with a sharp creak.  
“Keep your heads down,” hissed Ailyn, pulling her bow off her should and nocking an arrow, aiming at the small opening.  
A long sword shot through the opening and began to hack downwards at the remaining bolt.  
Ailyn took a quick breath, her heart hammering in her ears, moved in line with the opening and loosed an arrow through the gap. She didn’t hear it connect but a choked scream and the sudden withdrawal of the blade told her she had hit her target. She pulled another arrow as a wave of angry epithets spewed from the opening.  
Suddenly, a small dagger came spiraling toward her. Ailyn spun around, out of the way, as the dagger tore at the side of her dress but clinked harmlessly against a metal plate. While Ailyn tried to regain her balance, Din hopped up on the table as lithely as a cat, pulled a dagger and slammed it into the opening. She yanked back the dripping blade as another anguished scream pierced the night. Ailyn moved out of sight from the opening and nocked another arrow as Din jumped down and helped Gana shove the table into the door.  
The battering grew intensity, the table jerking back farther and farther with each blow. An ax appeared at the jagged hole and easily began cutting through the remaining bolt. Ailyn moved to the side and loosed another arrow but there was no scream this time. Desperately, she pulled another but something appeared in her peripheral vision, halting her movements. Ailyn’s breath caught in her throat as the ghostly shapes of Lord Darren and her father shimmered in the candlelight off to her left. They both looked achingly sad as they watched her.  
She froze, staring at the apparitions when the last bolt gave way and the door burst open, shoving the table back several feet. Gana and Din were thrown to the ground.  
A thin man in heavy armor burst through and charged at Lady Ailyn with his sword raised. She screamed and loosed her arrow at the man’s throat, jumping back out of the way of his blade. The bolt glanced off his neck, and a short spurt of blood spattered her dress. The man groaned and clutched at his neck, falling to his knees and dropping his blade. Ailyn dropped her bow and pulled a dagger as she scrambled back over to him before he could rise. She screamed again as she slammed the dagger into his back.   
Another soldier charged in but Gana slashed at his stomach. The man swore and backhanded her, knocking her back to the ground. He didn’t see Din get back up on the table and launch herself at his back until it was too late. She wrapped one arm over his chest as she fell and dragged her own blade across the man’s throat.  
“Stop, you bastards, in the name of the King!” shouted someone outside the door before anymore could come through.  
The clanging noise of renewed battle filtered in from outside as Ailyn shakily made her way over to the door and carefully peered out. The remaining attackers were surrounded by red Lannister cloaks. Ailyn fought the urge to faint and dropped down by Gana who was lying in a daze on the floor. Din had stood up from the man she killed and went over to the one who attacked Ailyn and made sure he was dead.  
Ailyn tried to slow down her panicked breathing and raised Gana up against her, cradling her in her arms.  
“Gana, can you hear me?” asked Ailyn, brushing her friend’s hair back from her face. The girl’s eyes were watering and her lower lip was split and bleeding but she managed to focus on Ailyn and nodded.  
“It’s over. More guards have arrived,” whispered Ailyn resting her head on the top of Gana’s.  
Gana clutched Ailyn’s hand as Din came over by them.  
Ailyn smiled at her and said quietly, “I’m glad I met you, Din.”  
Din smiled: It was the first time Ailyn had seen her truly happy. Ailyn held Gana close and pulled Din in for a hug with her free arm which she returned fiercely.  
Two Lannister guards came through the door behind them.  
“My lady, are you hurt?” asked one of them, as they both stopped nearby and lowered their hands to assist the women.  
“No, we are not hurt. What’s happening?” demanded Ailyn as she let the guards help her to her feet, followed by Gana and Din.  
“The battle is over. Stannis has been killed and his men are fleeing,” announced the guard holding onto Lady Ailyn.  
Ailyn let out a deep sigh of relief.  
“What is your name, please, my lady?” he asked.  
“I am Lady Ailyn of House Greystone. These are my maids,” replied Lady Ailyn.  
“Good. The Hand wishes to see you. Where are the other women? We are supposed to bring Lady Genna and Her Grace Queen Cersei with us as well.”  
Ailyn gestured weakly to the side door and several more guards went down that passage to find them. A few guards helped Lady Ailyn and her maids back to their room.  
Ailyn took off her bow and quiver but retained her daggers. She helped Din make Gana comfortable in a cushioned long-chair and supervised while Din tended to Gana’s bleeding lip. When Ailyn was satisfied, she drank down a large cup of wine to steady herself and ease the shaking in her hands. Then she followed the guards up to the Hand’s chambers.   
The doors were open and soldiers and commanders were coming and going. One of the men brought her inside and she saw Lady Genna and Cersei standing by the fire. Genna looked happy to see her; Cersei barely hid her disappointment. Ailyn went over by them despite the Queen’s glare.  
“Ailyn, are you hurt? Did they get through?” demanded Genna, looking her over, her green eyes lingering over the blood spatter on her dress.  
“I’m not hurt and two of them got through before our guards arrived,” replied Ailyn taking Genna’s outstretched hand for support.  
While she was speaking, Ailyn looked across the room at the cluster of men around Lord Tywin’s desk. The Hand was standing, leaning slightly on the desk, his face dirty and flecked with blood. Though he looked a little pale, he was barking orders to the men in front of him. Ser Kevan was at his side as always, occasionally glancing over at his brother as he spoke. On Tywin’s other side was Ser Jaime, looking exhausted and annoyed.  
“And what happened to the two soldiers who got through?” asked Cersei only half interested.  
“They didn’t make it,” replied Lady Ailyn shortly, not wanting to relive the experience just yet.  
Cersei rolled her eyes and turned to face the fire, her mouth set in a pout.  
Finally, Lord Tywin gave his last orders and Ser Kevan motioned for them to come forward.  
Lord Tywin sat down a little unsteadily in his chair as they approached.  
Ailyn frowned, trying to shake the feeling that something was wrong. He met her eyes, then glanced down at the blood. He frowned at her but she gave him a small smile to assure him that she was unharmed.  
“Is it over?” demanded Cersei, coming to stand before her father but keeping her eyes on her twin. “Is my son’s reign secured?”  
“Yes. Stannis is dead. I saw his body myself,” replied Ser Kevan for Lord Tywin.  
“The fighting was ugly. They seemed to be more concerned with felling Lannisters than just soldiers,” growled Lord Tywin, glaring at no one in particular.   
Genna looked worriedly at Kevan who glanced at Lord Tywin again.  
He’s sitting down and we’re all standing above him, realized Ailyn.  
“Cersei, Jaime I want you both to go to Tommen, get him on the throne and make sure he stays there. It’s important that people see their King on the throne after a battle,” ordered Lord Tywin, looking to his son then to his daughter.  
“We will have to begin rebuilding the walls were they’ve cracked and find some ships to guard the harbor while we are weakened,” said Tywin, more to his brother than anyone.  
Cersei started to argue with her father about being sent away and Kevan talked over her about her duty, all the while looking sideways down at his brother. Ser Jaime made a snide remark to Lord Tywin and Genna moved forward to speak as Lord Tywin glared fiercely up at his son.  
“There is an important issue which has not yet been addressed,” said Lady Ailyn over the noise. The Lannisters fell silent and five sets of green eyes locked on her. She met Lord Tywin’s sharp gaze and said quietly, “You’re wounded.”


	22. The Wounded Lion

Four pairs of Lannister eyes immediately shifted to Lord Tywin who continued holding Lady Ailyn’s troubled gaze.  
“Father?” began Cersei hesitantly, taking a small step toward him.  
“Is it true, Tywin?” demanded Genna.  
Ser Jaime clenched his remaining hand and looked guiltily down at his father.  
There was a tense pause and then Lord Tywin flicked his hand as if to dismiss their worry.  
“It’s not serious,” he muttered, shaking his head once.  
“You’re sitting down,” insisted Lady Ailyn quietly, looking at Ser Kevan for confirmation.   
Ser Kevan tried to not to betray anything but she could see the concern in his eyes as he glanced at his brother.   
“I’ll send for Pycelle,” announced Cersei, turning to leave.  
“NO!” Lord Tywin and Lady Ailyn said simultaneously.  
The Queen spun around in surprise and was about to snap at Lady Ailyn but her father silenced her.  
“This will not be made public,” he growled at her.  
“You’ll hardly be able to hold back the rumors of your injury if you bleed to death,” cried Genna impatiently.  
“You need a Maester,” affirmed Ser Kevan as delicately as he could.  
Lord Tywin’s sharp eyes flitted around to each of his family members, looking more and more like a trapped animal. Then, his gaze rested on Lady Ailyn again and there it remained.  
“Father…” Cersei started to speak again but Tywin cut her off without even looking at her.  
“I told you to get your son and go to the Throne. Jaime, go with your sister. Find that Tyrell girl and make sure she is seen with Tommen as well. Not a word of this. Go!” ordered Tywin, looking sideways at Ser Jaime’s feet until he complied with his father’s wishes.  
Cersei’s mouth was working silently but her brother took her by the arm and moved her toward the door without a word.  
When they had gone, Lady Ailyn went for a cloth on a nearby table and brought it over to Ser Kevan. Lord Tywin pushed himself to his feet with an effort and raised his left arm so Kevan could get the cloth under his armor. He grimaced and Lady Ailyn caught a glimpse of an unsettling red stain on his lower abdomen.  
“That’s not good enough,” fretted Genna.  
“It will hold for the next half hour,” replied Lady Ailyn.  
The three remaining Lannisters looked at her for an explanation.  
“May I make a suggestion?” she asked, looking at Lord Tywin.  
He nodded once.  
Lady Ailyn looked at Ser Kevan.  
“In the next half an hour, summon everyone that you need to speak with or be seen by. Commanders, guards, Varys and Baelish,” she suggested ticking off the names on his fingers.  
“And then?” asked Genna.  
“Then bar the doors to everyone, servants too except for your most trusted. Do you have faith in Maester Pycelle?” asked Lady Ailyn of Lord Tywin.  
He nodded.  
“Then, I will send for him so he may tend to me,” said Lady Ailyn.  
Lord Tywin frowned but before he could speak, Lady Ailyn pulled a dagger and made a shallow cut across her left forearm.  
Genna gasped.  
“My lady!” blurted out Ser Kevan taking a step toward her.  
“No!” whispered Lord Tywin fiercely trying to rise and sinking back with a wince.  
Ailyn caught her breath and resheathed her dagger. She put her hand over the cut.  
“Once he’s arrived, I will bring him up to you by the side door,” she explained.  
“But the servants will see you bring him,” protested Kevan still staring at her in surprise.  
“Not that side door,” said Lady Ailyn quietly, meeting Lord Tywin’s troubled gaze. His expression changed as he realized what she meant.  
“There’s no point in having secret doors if you don’t use them,” she reasoned softly.  
Lady Genna was looking back and forth between her and her brother.   
“Will that do?” asked Lady Ailyn.  
“Pycelle will treat you first.” It was not a suggestion.  
Ailyn nodded immediately to save time, intending the exact opposite.  
“Genna, go with her,” instructed Lord Tywin, nodding to his sister.  
Lady Genna went to Lady Ailyn and gingerly clasped her wounded arm and put her other around Lady Ailyn’s waist for support. They walked out of the Hand’s chambers together. Ailyn wanted to look back at him but kept her focus on moving forward. There was a little commotion in the hall; guards coming and going. Several of them cast surprised looks in their direction but none of them stopped.   
When they were outside Lady Ailyn’s room, Lady Genna stopped two passing guards in a tone of icy command that Ailyn was sure was a Lannister birthright. Once they realized who she was, they jumped to find Maester Pycelle for her. Genna opened the door for them and helped Ailyn inside.  
Gana was still lying down, looking pale, with Din at her side. She tried to rise when Ailyn came in, looking at her mistress with concern.  
“No Gana, don’t get up. Din and Lady Genna can help me take care of this,” urged Lady Ailyn.  
Gana reluctantly sank back down but watched her intently.  
“Din, would you get out some bandaging and some of the same mixture you used for Gana’s lip?” asked Lady Ailyn, walking over by the fire and removing her dagger belt.  
Genna helped Lady Ailyn remove her grey dress as Din brought over a clean bowl of water and a small towel to wash Ailyn’s wound before dressing it.  
“Why is this so heavy?” muttered Genna, grunting with effort as they finally managed to get it over Ailyn’s head.  
“There’s some metal plating in the bodice.”  
Lady Genna fixed her with a surprised smile.  
“Why?”  
“Because chain mail was too heavy,” replied Ailyn in good humor.  
Lady Genna laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling with mirth.  
Ailyn sat down on a chair and held her arm out while Din gently wiped away the blood. The cut wasn’t deep enough to need stitches but it would take a little time to heal.  
“Has Lord Tywin been wounded in battle before?” asked Lady Ailyn as Din wrapped her arm.  
“He has taken several injuries, a few of them serious, but he’s always recovered. That was when he was younger though,” said Genna quietly, traces of worry in her tone.  
“I’m sure he’ll heal this time as well,” Ailyn answered, thinking aloud.  
“I’m more worried about keeping him immobile if he needs bed rest. Tywin makes for a horrible patient. I took care of him once when we were younger and he came down with a fever. I had to resort to drugging his food and wine just to get him to sleep. He does not know his limits and it will be a bad day for the Seven Kingdoms if he ever learns them,” related Genna, handing Ailyn a cup of wine to ease the stinging in her arm.   
Din finished wrapping her arm and then went for a comfortable gown for Ailyn.  
There was a short silence.  
Lady Genna was looking at Ailyn as though she wanted to ask her something but was holding back.  
“What is it, Genna?” inquired Lady Ailyn finally.  
“There is a door linking your room with Tywin’s?” asked Genna quietly.  
Ailyn nodded.  
“He’s never used it,” Ailyn assured her.  
There was another pause.  
“Have you?” pressed Genna gently.  
Lady Ailyn looked away for a moment and then nodded.  
“Once. The night the King was murdered. I was worried about him,” replied Ailyn, hesitantly meeting Genna’s green eyes.  
“And he let you stay?”  
Ailyn smiled at the memory and affirmed her question.   
Genna smiled as well and stood up, letting Din help Ailyn into a plain, deep blue gown with long loose sleeves.   
“Were you afraid?” asked Genna after Ailyn had finished adjusting the front of the gown.  
“Very. But I was more afraid of having to face Lord Tywin if something happened to you or the Queen,” said Ailyn, flexing her fingers slowly.  
“And how do you think he would react if I had to tell him that you died trying to defend us?” demanded Genna, crossing her arms in front of her chest.  
“Not as severely, I’m sure. You’re family; I’m not,” answered Ailyn.  
“But” began Genna but Ailyn stopped her.  
“What’s done is done and no one has died. Let us worry about the future now,” said Ailyn firmly, as someone knocked on the door.  
Din went to answer it and Maester Pycelle shuffled into the room carrying a small case.  
“Lady Ailyn, I heard you were wounded,” he started to say, looking at her uncertainly and then glancing at Gana.  
“I was wounded, but I’ve taken care of it. You are not here to treat me. You are loyal to House Lannister, yes?” demanded Lady Ailyn, giving Pycelle a sharp look.  
“I… yes, my lady. I have always had the interests of House Lannister at heart,” asserted Pycelle, still trying to figure out what she was getting at.  
“Good. Then all that is required of you is your complete discretion,” Lady Ailyn informed him.  
“Of course. You can be assured of my silence, my lady. May I ask to what these questions tend? Is Lady Genna wounded?” asked Pycelle, looking at Lord Tywin’s sister in confusion.  
“No. Lord Tywin is. You are here to treat him. If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” said Lady Ailyn, walking over to the alcove before he could stammer out another question.  
She flicked the latch back and picked up a nearby candle to ascend the stairs. Ailyn paused outside Lord Tywin’s door and listened for sounds of conversation. She didn’t want to walk in while Lord Tywin was still giving out orders.  
She waited for a moment but there was only silence.  
Slowly, she lifted the latch and placed the candle in the sconce. Ailyn pushed the door open an inch and then stopped, listening again. Two male voices were speaking in hushed tones nearby, but otherwise the room was quiet. Lord Tywin was no longer seated at the desk. She moved the door open wide enough to slip through.  
Ser Kevan had removed some of his own armor and was helping Lord Tywin with his breast plate. There was an ugly wince on his face as Ser Kevan opened the buckles on his wounded side. Lord Tywin caught her movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to look at her, his pained expression clearing. Kevan glanced her way as well.  
“Are the doors barred?” she asked quietly.  
“Yes. Is Pycelle with you?” returned Kevan, pausing.  
Ailyn nodded. “I will bring him up.”  
She slipped back down the staircase and came out into her room. Pycelle and Lady Genna were standing near the secret entrance, Pycelle still looked very surprised.  
“He is ready for you. Remember, we are counting on your silence,” she warned one last time.  
Ailyn stepped aside to let Maester Pycelle pass her and looked to Din and Gana, who was sitting up. She went over to them.  
“Close the curtains on my bed. Try to keep up the illusion that Maester Pycelle is tending me as long as you can. We will come back down when he is finished. Thank you both for your bravery and your loyalty,” said Lady Ailyn gratefully, clasping each girl by the hand and squeezing them.  
Din smiled and Gana nodded.  
Ailyn smiled at them both and then went swiftly back up the stairs. Both Lady Genna and Maester Pycelle had just entered the room. Ailyn came in and closed the door gently behind her. Lord Tywin was seated on the bed in his breeches and a plain cloth shirt. There was a dark, damp patch on his stomach that caused his shirt to stick to his skin. Kevan was pulling off his own bracers while Pycelle set his case down on a nearby table.  
Without being told, Ailyn went for a large bowl, filled it with clean water and scooped up a few nearby towels.  
“Eh, I’m going to need…” began Maester Pycelle but Lady Ailyn over rode him, setting down the bowl and towels on the table nearest to him.  
“Will this be all?” she asked, as the Maester turned to look at the items in surprise.  
“Eh, yes,” he replied haltingly.  
“Good. Then heal my brother,” ordered Lady Genna, who was standing off to Lord Tywin’s left.  
Ailyn met the lion’s pained green gaze and then turned to go stand out on the balcony to give them some privacy. She heard the sound of ripping fabric and a short grunt of pain. Ailyn moved around the edge of the curtain at the entrance to Lord Tywin’s balcony and risked a glance back at the assembled Lannisters.  
Kevan was carefully cutting away Lord Tywin’s shirt. The Lion was lean and muscled, a patch of wiry golden hair covered his heart and his broad chest was dappled with old scars. The cut on his lower abdomen was still oozing. Lord Tywin met her eyes suddenly and she instantly moved away from the curtain, embarrassed. She sat down on the stone railing of the balcony where it met the palace wall and leaned back against it, wrapping her arms around herself. It was only then, in the darkness, that she realized how exhausted she was. Ailyn allowed herself to slump a little and listened to the sounds of the city slowly getting back on its feet.  
After what seemed like a long time, Lady Genna came out and joined Ailyn on the balcony. She sat down right next to Ailyn and took her hand.  
“Will he be alright?” asked Ailyn immediately.  
“The Maester is assuring us that he will heal given time,” replied Lady Genna gently.  
Ailyn sighed with relief and rubbed her temples tiredly.  
“You must be worn out, Ailyn. Can I take you back down to your room?” offered Genna, looking at her with concern.  
“Not just yet. I could do with some food though. Lord Tywin should eat a little as well, if he’s able, before he sleeps,” suggested Lady Ailyn.  
Without a word, Genna got up and met Kevan at the curtain. They had a whispered conversation and then Kevan went back into the room and Genna came to sit with Ailyn again.  
“Kevan will send someone to fetch a few plates of dinner. Pycelle is finishing up the bindings now,” Genna informed her quietly.  
“Does Ser Kevan know how it happened?” asked Ailyn, focusing on Genna again.  
“He wasn’t there but from the little he was able to pry from Tywin, it sounds like Ser Jaime was in great danger and Tywin stepped between him and his attacker,” said Lady Genna.  
“He was protecting his son?” Ailyn smiled sadly.  
So you would step in front of a sword for one son but I doubt you would do it for the other.  
“Also, Tyrion has escaped,” added Genna in a low voice.  
Ailyn looked sharply at her.  
“There was a breach in the dungeons and several cells were forced open. A few other prisoners were murdered.”  
Ailyn thought back to the look Tyrion had given Tywin yesterday at the trial.  
“Extra guards should be posted outside the door and several more should be placed in the servant’s corridors,” said Ailyn, thinking aloud.  
“Do you think that’s necessary?” asked Genna, frowning.  
“Yes. May I come inside?” inquired Ailyn respectfully before rising.  
“Of course.”  
Both women stood up and walked back to the curtain. Once inside, Ailyn saw Pycelle replacing bottles in his case; his hands were bloody. Ser Kevan was at Tywin’s bedside, slightly bent over. Tywin himself was hidden from their view. There were a few gentle taps at the servant’s door and Ser Kevan moved to answer it.  
Lord Tywin was reclining against several pillows, a clean shirt covered the large bandage around his middle. He looked a little pale but his eyes were as sharp as ever. While Ser Kevan was giving the servant at the door a stern warning, Lord Tywin summoned his sister to him and dismissed Pycelle who toddled off back down the secret stairs. Ailyn stayed near the middle of the room until he wished her closer. A resolute looking servant came in with a large, covered tray and set it down carefully on the main table. He barely looked at Ailyn as he turned and swiftly left the room again under Ser Kevan’s glare. Since Lord Tywin was still speaking with Lady Genna, who was smoothing his sheets in a motherly way, Ailyn went to the tray and uncovered several warm platters of food. The roast fowl smelled delicious, mixed with several warm rolls, cheese, and some fruit: all things easily eaten by hand. Ser Kevan came up to stand beside her.  
“How is your arm, my lady?” he asked softly.  
“It barely bothers me, Ser Kevan. It was a necessary part of the ruse to get Pycelle to my room. More than a handful of guards saw me holding my arm in the corridor. How is Lord Tywin?” she asked, eating a small cube of cheese.  
“He will heal. Pycelle stitched him up and bandaged the wound,” answered Ser Kevan. “It will be harder to keep him bedridden.”  
Ailyn smiled a little as Ser Kevan echoed the same sentiments as his sister had not more than an hour ago.  
“Is it true that Tyrion has disappeared?” she asked.  
Kevan nodded, his face going grim.  
“I think some extra guards around this room and mine would be well advised,” suggested Ailyn, hoping Ser Kevan would agree with her.  
“They are already sent for. Some were standing guard in the servant’s passage just now,” Ser Kevan said.  
Ailyn nodded.  
“I am sorry that you are caught in the middle of this but with Stannis defeated, the war is practically over,” mused Ser Kevan, glancing over at Tywin.  
“I am glad of it,” whispered Lady Ailyn, putting some food on a plate.  
Lady Genna came over to them.  
“I have some things to take care of. Kevan, he wants to speak with you again,” announced Genna.  
Kevan left and Genna turned to her.  
“Will you stay with him?”  
“Does he wish me to?” asked Ailyn quietly.  
“Yes. If you could stay with him for the next few hours, Kevan will come to relieve you later this morning,” Lady Genna suggested.   
Ailyn agreed with her.  
Genna clasped her hands suddenly.  
“Thank you, Ailyn. You have been wonderful through all of this,” Lord Tywin’s sister said fervently.  
Ailyn smiled at her and replied, “I am happy to help.”  
Genna smiled too and then went back down the secret stairs to leave from Ailyn’s room where she was supposed to be. Kevan bid his brother farewell and then walked to the doors of the Hand’s chamber. He paused and looked back at Ailyn and nodded to her. She smiled reassuringly back at him and then he slipped out.  
Lady Ailyn met Lord Tywin’s gaze and went over to him. He was pale and his golden hair was a little tousled from the pillows but he looked far from tired.  
“Wine?” she offered.  
Lord Tywin nodded.  
Ailyn brought the small table Pycelle had used closer to Tywin’s bedside and then brought over two goblets which she filled generously. Then, she went back to the table and carefully lifted a few plates of food and brought them over as well.  
“I’m not hungry,” muttered Tywin, swallowing a large mouthful of wine.  
“You should eat something, my lord. You must keep your strength,” insisted Ailyn. Without waiting for an argument, she went to pick up a chair from the main table and brought it over so she could sit by the table with him.  
“Can I get you anything else?” she asked, before sitting down.  
Lord Tywin put the goblet down looking mildly annoyed.  
“No. I can tolerate womanly fussing from my sister. I will not have it from you as well,” he growled at her.  
“You would do well to remain civil, my lord, or I will start feeding you,” she threatened playfully, smiling at him and sitting down.  
He made an abrupt bark of amusement and picked up a piece of fowl.  
Ailyn drank some wine and then began eating as well, realizing her hunger.  
“Were you in danger in the Tower?” asked Lord Tywin quietly, after they had eaten in silence for a time.  
“My maids and I were able to defend ourselves, my lord. Gana has a split lip but that is all, “she reassured him.  
“That isn’t what I asked,” said Lord Tywin in a hard voice, staring her down.  
She waited a moment and then replied, “Yes, we were in danger.”  
Lord Tywin glanced down at the arm she had cut to procure the Maester and then looked away from her. He somehow managed to look sad and angry at the same time.  
“Whatever I do, I never seem to be able to protect you,” murmured the lion ruefully.  
“I am not dead, my lord. You have not failed me,” countered Lady Ailyn with a slight frown.  
“That is more to your own level headedness than anything I have done,” grumbled Tywin, still not looking at her.  
Ailyn cleaned her fingers on a napkin and then reached out to take his hand.  
“You have saved me from danger more than once, my lord. Do not be so quick to dismiss your part in keeping me safe. Besides, with Lord Stannis dead and defeated, the war is now over, is it not? This is a great victory for you and the Throne. You should be pleased,” reasoned Ailyn, moving her head to the side to get him to look at her.  
Tywin Lannister kept his head turned from her for a moment, until suddenly, he looked at her sharply and clutched her wrist tightly as though he was afraid she would slip away.  
“You don’t have my permission to leave,” he said fiercely.  
That same desperate look came into his eyes as it had the night she visited him.  
Lady Ailyn looked down at his hand and gently pried his fingers off her wrist, placing his hand in hers. She pressed it between both of her own and met his anxious eyes.  
“I have not asked for it,” Ailyn whispered gently.  
This seemed to calm him slightly but he still looked uneasy.  
“Don’t worry, my lord, I’m not going to slip away in the night. You have my word,” she assured him firmly.  
He clasped her hand in return and nodded, satisfied that she would not lie to him.  
She smiled and then took her hand back and cleared the table in front of them. Ailyn moved the table back out of the way and scooted her chair closer to his bed.  
“Lady Genna asked me to stay with you while you rested,” explained Ailyn.  
“You need sleep as well, Lady Ailyn,” argued Lord Tywin.  
“There will be plenty of time for me to sleep later. Can you sit forward a little, my lord?” she asked, bending down closer to him and gripping the edges of two of his pillows.  
Tywin winced as he made the effort to sit up straighter and Ailyn quickly tugged out the pillows from behind him and tossed them on the other side of his bed. She helped him lie back and pulled the blankets up around him, ignoring his grouchy protests. He pulled his left arm gingerly out from underneath the covers and laid it down with his palm open, waiting.  
“You still don’t trust me not to leave, do you?” she asked quietly, taking his hand anyway.  
He didn’t answer her but clasped her hand as he made himself more comfortable against the pillow. His sharp green eyes began to get hazy with sleep though he fought against it. As his eyes slid closed, he murmured something she was too far away to hear.  
“My lord?” she whispered softly, leaning closer to him.  
“I need you,” he breathed, as the pressure of his hand in hers disappeared.  
Ailyn swallowed the lump in her throat and remained close to him to make sure he was still breathing. She watched the tension go out of his body and gently removed her hand from his. Tywin made a sleepy noise and his fingers twitched in agitation. Ailyn put her other hand in his and leaned forward so that her head was resting on her arm on his blankets next to him. She smiled to herself and began to doze, not intending to sleep but the next thing she knew, Ser Kevan was gently clasping her shoulders to wake her in the early morning dawn. Lord Tywin was snoring gently as she stood up slowly and stretched her back.  
Ser Kevan thanked her softly and she nodded, heading slowly back down the secret stairs to her room where she collapsed into her bed.


	23. Turning Away

Lady Ailyn slept in very late the next day, her sleep deep and dreamless.  
“It is nearly midday, my lady,” Gana whispered, touching her mistress gently on the shoulder.  
Ailyn groaned and rolled over, wincing as she accidentally rubbed her injured arm against the bedding. She blinked up at Gana and then frowned at the bruise on Gana’s lower jaw and her slightly puffy lip.  
“Oh Gana, your lip,” exclaimed Ailyn sitting up and looking at her friend with concern.  
“It doesn’t hurt, my lady. Although eating was a little awkward this morning,” she admitted.  
Ailyn smiled at her. She got up and ate quickly. Then, with Din’s help, she bathed and let Gana redress her arm. Gana was about to start pining Ailyn’s hair when a guard knocked and requested Lady Ailyn’s presence on behalf of the Hand. Her maid deftly pulled back a few loose strands from either side of Lady Ailyn’s face and pinned them behind her head.  
Ailyn thanked her and then moved to follow the guard to Lord Tywin’s room. Ailyn almost stopped in her tracks when she saw Lord Tywin fully clothed and seated calmly at his desk, the pile of papers in front of him as high as ever. The guard quickly left and Ailyn came around the desk to stand beside him.  
“My lord, should you be straining yourself like this?” she asked quietly, looking at him with concern.  
“There is too much to be done. I cannot afford to sleep all day,” replied Lord Tywin in a mildly disapproving tone.  
Ailyn narrowed her eyes at him.  
“I lost sleep tending to you, my lord,” she shot back in an equally mild warning tone.  
Lord Tywin glanced down as he shuffled some papers, a little abashed.  
“How is your arm?” he asked quietly, meeting her eyes again.  
“It stings a little. Are you taking anything for your pain, my lord?” queried Ailyn, glancing down at the slight bulge on the left side of his stomach.  
Tywin gestured vaguely to the wine glass at his right hand.  
“There is some milk of the poppy mixed in with the wine.”  
Ailyn wanted to chide him but the look on his face stopped her. He was not her responsibility.  
Lord Tywin started to say something but several loud bangs on the door interrupted him.  
“Come,” barked Lord Tywin, annoyed.  
Ser Jaime strode into the room, trailed by two guards who were dragging a third between them. Ailyn recognized the man as one of the wine bearers taken prisoner for questioning.  
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” began Ser Jaime in an insinuating manner, “but this man has something to say which I think you should hear.”  
Ailyn glanced down at Lord Tywin and then excused herself. She started to walk away but Lord Tywin said, “no” and touched her lightly on the wrist to stay her movement. Ailyn glanced from him to Ser Jaime and remained where she was at his side.   
“Leave us,” ordered Ser Jaime to the two guards behind him. Both men unceremoniously dropped their charge and he fell to the ground with a broken groan. After the soldiers had left and shut the door behind them, Ser Jaime nudged the man with his foot.  
“Get up and speak.”  
The man was thin and filthy, his hands shook as they pushed up on the floor. With a little difficulty and an abrupt jerk on his arm from Ser Jaime, the man stood before Lord Tywin.  
“Well?” demanded the Hand of the King imperiously.  
“Pl-please my lord hand. I…I have information about the person who poisoned the King,” he stammered glancing furtively up at Lord Tywin as he spoke.  
“Why have you waited this long to come forward?” growled Lord Tywin.  
“I found out yesterday, my lord hand. The woman next to me, she confessed,” he blurted out.  
“A woman?”  
Ailyn straightened slightly at the edge in Lord Tywin’s voice even though the question was not directed at her.  
The man winced and nodded.  
“Last night, she started babbling to me about how she had poisoned him on purpose because he killed her son. Then she began to laugh hysterically until it sounded like she was screaming. I was sure the guards were going to come for her but then all the torches went out. No one was speaking but I could hear doors being bashed open and other prisoners being killed,” said the man hurriedly.  
“That must be when Tyrion escaped,” interjected Ser Jaime, looking at his father.  
Lord Tywin silenced his son with a glare.  
“That woman murdered the King, my lord hand. Please, let me go,” begged the man, falling to his knees.  
The Hand of the King narrowed his green eyes at the prone man, thinking.  
“Have you told anyone else?” he asked after a time.  
“No, my lord hand. Only the lord commander,” assured the frightened prisoner.  
“I see. I will take your information under consideration,” said Tywin Lannister with an air of finality. He looked at Ser Jaime and Ailyn saw the commander clench his jaw.  
There was a slight pause which was filled only with the broken pleas of the condemned man.  
Then, before Ailyn could say anything, Ser Jaime drew his sword with his left hand and slammed it into the man’s chest.  
Ailyn covered her mouth in horror as the man screamed, choked and then fell dead to the floor. Ser Jaime stayed with his back to Lord Tywin as the prisoner died. Ailyn could see the muscles in his jaw working and his fingers going white as they gripped his sword. The Lord Commander summoned some guards to get rid of the body. Only when they were gone, did Ser Jaime turn to his father again.  
“You just killed the only man who could have cleared your son’s name!” exclaimed Ailyn angrily.  
“Kings are not killed by peasant women,” Lord Tywin snapped back.  
“So you would rather have both your sons be kingslayers?” demanded Lady Ailyn, taking a step away from him.  
“Be silent!” hissed Lord Tywin, glancing sideways at her.  
“Will you stop hunting for Tyrion?” asked Ser Jaime over Lady Ailyn.  
“No. His trial was not concluded. It will be postponed until he is found. Find out what happened in the dungeons last night, Jaime. The Red Keep was not breached,” said Lord Tywin.  
“But he didn’t do it!” cried Ser Jaime, still pleading for his brother.  
Lord Tywin remained implacable.  
Without another word, Ser Jaime glared angrily at his father then turned on his heel and left.  
“My lord, please, he doesn’t deserve this,” Ailyn tried again.  
“He deserves far worse. And you will mind your tone,” threatened Lord Tywin, rising slowly, carefully.  
“Which angers you more: that the King’s killer is a woman or a peasant?”  
“Both,” growled the lion.  
“Someday, I hope you realize that all people matter, not just the well born men,” chastised Lady Ailyn, frowning.   
“You will remember your place, my lady,” warned the lion, narrowing his eyes at her.   
Ailyn sighed in frustration, staring at him.  
“How can I remember my place when it has never been defined? One minute you are begging me to stay at your bedside and the next, you look at me like a complete stranger as you are doing now,” accused Lady Ailyn trying to keep her anger in check.  
The cold reserve on Lord Tywin’ countenance shifted to confusion and concern.  
“It is emotionally exhausting trying to figure out what you want from me, and I cannot do it any longer.”  
She straightened up, raised her chin and in the coldest voice she could, Lady Ailyn said, “The next time you summon me, it had better be to send me home.”   
Then she turned and began to stride away from him.  
There was a movement behind her and then a choked cry. Ailyn looked back over her shoulder at the sound. Lord Tywin had fallen to one knee, his left hand clutching the edge of his desk, the right one crossed over his stomach, his golden head bowed down in pain.  
A small part of her wanted to kick him; wanted him to feel something even if it was pain. But the larger part, the part that still desperately wanted to understand him, refused to let him bleed out in his own chambers. Ailyn ran back to him and knelt down in front of him, gently putting her hand on the side of his face so he would look up at her. With her other hand, she tried to pry away his arm to see if he was in serious danger.  
“Don’t,” was all he could get out. His breathing was uneven, labored.  
“Let me see your hand,” pressed Ailyn pulling his right hand away from his wound.   
Her heart sank as his fingertips came away damp with blood.  
Ailyn stood up and grabbed a nearby cloth. She put it under his hand over his wound.  
“Apply as much pressure as you can. Don’t move,” she said urgently, pushing herself to her feet again despite his broken protest.  
Ailyn ran to the servant’s entrance and flung open the door, causing Lord Tywin’s wine bearer to nearly drop the flagon he had been about to bring into the room.  
“Fetch Maester Pycelle and Ser Kevan here immediately. Go!” cried Ailyn as the young man turned on his heel and ran back down the passage to do her bidding.  
Ailyn hurried back to the fallen lion and knelt at his side.  
“Put your arm around me. You need to try to make it to the bed. You can’t be found like this,” said Ailyn moving her hand to take the place of his on the cloth over his wound.  
Wincing, Lord Tywin draped his right arm over her shoulders and took a breath as he braced himself to stand. Together they rose about a foot and then Lord Tywin dropped back down on his knee with a grunt. Ailyn pressed the cloth into his wound as hard as she could, hoping that he wouldn’t start bleeding through it. She wrapped her free arm around his back and brought herself up close to him, her face level with his. There were small beads of perspiration prickling his brow.  
“You are Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and Hand of the King. You have no business being on your knees, now get up!” she hissed fiercely at him.  
Ailyn was gratified by the resolve that filled his pained green eyes and, with a sudden effort, they got shakily to their feet. She winced as his Hand pin dug into her skin above her dress. His hand clamped down over hers on his wound as they moved in an ungainly fashion over to his bed. Tywin sat down heavily on the bed and Ailyn slid her hand out from underneath his. She plucked the Hand pin off him, tossed it on his table and then started undoing the fastenings of his tunic with shaky fingers. Once they were open, she helped him struggle out of it. The white shirt he had on underneath was damp with sweat. Awkwardly, but without any protests from the lion, she got that off him too and then cast about for something to cut away his bindings so Pycelle could administer to the reopened wound.  
There was nothing near to hand so Ailyn bent down and pulled a dagger from her boot. Tywin had slumped back against the pillows, his breathing ragged. His eyes sharpened when she brought the blade up to his chest to cut the bandages, his free hand clutched at her wrist.  
“I have to cut away the bandaging. Please, Lord Tywin,” she gasped out, as her vision blurred slightly. She blinked several times as he loosened his grip on her, his hand falling to his side and the focus in his gaze wavered.  
“Don’t pass out on me. Talk to me,” she demanded, cutting the top binding and starting to unwind it.  
“Why are you crying?” he managed to ask through gritted teeth.  
Ailyn hastily wiped her eyes with her sleeve and didn’t answer him.  
“I’m not going to die,” he muttered, though the stain on his abdomen was making a strong argument.  
“I’m not afraid you’re going to die, my lord.”  
“Then what is it?”  
Ailyn stopped what she was doing for a split second and looked him in the eye.  
“You are the most frustrating man I’ve ever met. You’ve made me care for you despite all your attempts to push me away. Now that I’ve seen how you treat your own family, why I still seek your approval and affection is beyond all reason,” rambled Ailyn, pulling away some soiled bandages.  
“I don’t want…” but he trailed off as a fresh spasm took the breath from his lungs.  
Ailyn finally removed the last of the bandages and swallowed back a surge of bile that rose in her throat. The last few inches of stitches near his hip had ripped and the wound was bleeding freely. She frantically ran over to his washstand near the privy and grabbed the remaining hand towels. Lord Tywin cried out as she pressed them down on his wound with both hands. He arched up toward her, clutching at her wrists but she held firm. She could feel the tears running freely down her face. Tywin’s face was flushed, twisted with pain but he sought her gaze. Ailyn blinked at him.  
“I meant what I said last night,” he whispered fervently, trying again.  
A sob tore from her and she looked away from him.  
Ailyn vaguely became aware of a frantic banging on the doors.  
She drew a breath, leaned over and kissed him roughly. Tywin made a noise against her mouth, freezing in surprise. He tasted of salt and wine with a hint of poppy.   
Ailyn broke away from him abruptly, wrenching out of his grasp. Tywin kept hold of the towels with one hand and reached out for her with the other but missed.  
“Come in!” she shouted hoarsely, wiping her face and walking quickly around the edge of his bed.   
Ser Kevan burst into the room, Maester Pycelle hobbling quickly behind him.  
She heard Lord Tywin call out her name but she kept walking forward.  
“He ripped his stitches. Hurry,” Ailyn told them.  
Ser Kevan paused slightly as she drew close to him but she kept walking past him and did not look back, tears still partially blinding her. She made her way back to her room and collapsed in Gana’s arms, gasping emotionally. Between her panic breathing and the tightness of her corset, Ailyn blacked out.

When Ailyn came to, she was lying on a divan with Din at her side.  
“Din, what…” Ailyn began disoriented, trying to ascertain how much time had passed.  
“Is there any news from upstairs?” she whispered, searching Din’s face for an answer.  
Din shook her head.  
“You haven’t been out that long, my lady,” replied her maid softly.  
“You’re awake,” said Gana’s voice, approaching from off to Ailyn’s left. She turned to head to look for Gana, who was coming out from the secret alcove in the wall.  
“No I didn’t go in his room. I could still hear him barking orders from the other side of the door. He is very much alive, Ailyn, don’t worry,” Gana reassured her as she came to sit beside Din.  
“What happened?” asked Gana, after Ailyn had had a little time to process the news.  
“We fought again and he managed to rip his stitches,” Ailyn said bitterly.  
There was a pause.  
“All we seem to do is fight. I don’t know what to think anymore,” sighed Ailyn tiredly.  
“I think he means well, my lady,” offered Gana, glancing at the fresh vase of lavender and heather on the table next to them.  
“He can only ever admit his feelings when he’s in some altered state. When he is in complete control of himself, I don’t know where I stand with him. I am through trying to figure out,” resolved Ailyn, wiping her wet face.  
“Are you sure…” began Gana hesitantly but Ailyn cut her off.  
“Please, no more about this. I’ve soiled my dress,” she said, getting up and tugging at the sash on her waist.  
Din and Gana helped her out of her dress and into a clean one. Then Ailyn went to sit by the fire and stared blankly into the flames. Din and Gana stayed in the room for a while but she didn’t ask for anything else. She sat there until dusk, dutifully ate some dinner and then went back to sleep. 

Two days dragged slowly past Lady Ailyn as she alternated between reading and staring out at the city from her balcony. She was not sent for and no messages came. Ailyn wrote a long letter to her father in anticipation of being allowed to return home soon.   
That afternoon, Lady Genna came to visit her. Ailyn agreed to see her and met her politely.  
“Lady Ailyn, are you unwell?” asked Genna as she sat down with her on the balcony.  
“No, I am perfectly well, thank you,” answered Ailyn calmly.  
“You have not been to see Tywin.”  
Ailyn wasn’t sure if it was a question or an accusation.  
“He has not sent for me and I have no wish to see him. I hope he heals and is not in pain,” she said emotionlessly.  
“Have you quarreled?” Genna tried again.  
“For the last time,” affirmed Ailyn, nodding.  
“Ailyn, you mean a good deal to him.”  
“He has only ever said as much when drunk or in extreme pain. When he is in control, I barely matter. For the sake of my emotional stability, I no longer wish to have informal contact with him,” explained Lady Ailyn dispassionately.  
“But…”  
“He will not change and I was a fool to think he would. I wish him well and will always consider you a friend, Lady Genna,” concluded Ailyn, rising.  
Genna’s mouth worked for a moment before realizing that Ailyn would not change her mind. She took Ailyn hands and squeezed them.  
“I will never regret making your acquaintance, Ailyn.”  
“Nor I yours, Lady Genna,” she replied, pressing Genna’s hands.  
With one last sad look, Genna left her in peace.

 

Author’s note: Apologies for the melodrama. I know it looks bad but the way Lord Tywin’s character and Lady Ailyn’s are built, their personal history and present ambitions, they would be prone to quarreling. I wasn’t happy to write this chapter but things had to come to a head between them, to force Tywin in particular to realize what he wants.  
Thank you all for sticking with me this long. I had no idea it would become this sprawling story when I started drafting the first chapter. Please know that there is light in the chapters ahead.


	24. A Question

“The Hand of the King wishes to see you, my lady,” Ailyn’s guard informed her the next day.   
“Is he dying?” asked Ailyn, turning a page in her book.  
“Er, no my lady,” the said hesitantly.  
“For what reason does he wish to see me then, ser?” asked Ailyn, not moving from her chair.  
“He didn’t say, my lady,” responded the guard, looking surprised.  
“I will see him for one reason and one reason alone. He knows what that is. Bring back the right reason, and I will go with you to his chamber. Otherwise, don’t bother returning,” Lady Ailyn replied dismissively.  
The guard stood there dumbly for a moment before a cold look from Ailyn sent him off. Ailyn resumed reading. She wanted to go to him but she did not wish to appear weak in her convictions.  
“You refused to see him?”   
Gana had appeared silently at her elbow.  
“Yes. I told him I will see him again when he is prepared to send me home, not before,” explained Ailyn quietly. “You said you heard him talking again this morning?”  
Gana nodded.  
“Do you think he will send us home?”  
“No. He will either do nothing or send guards to drag me to him. I highly doubt he would do the latter,” Ailyn guessed.  
The foremost assumption proved correct. The guard did not return.

The following day, Ailyn was slipping on a robe after rolling reluctantly out of bed when something caught her eye. In the glow of the morning light, she moved to the table that always held a large vase of lavender and heather. Her usual spray of flowers was there in a large vase but in front of it, there was another smaller, elegant glass vase rimmed with gold, containing a single, long stemmed red rose in perfect bloom.  
“Gana, what’s this?” asked Ailyn, gently touching the crimson petals.  
“It was there when I came in this morning, my lady. There was no note,” replied Gana, coming to stand beside her.  
Ailyn frowned. She knew the lavender was to make her feel less homesick; the rose was here for a different reason.  
“It’s from him?” Gana inquired softly.  
Ailyn nodded but said nothing, moving away to eat and begin her day. 

The next day, there was a new rose and new lavender.  
And a new visitor.  
“Ser Langdon Spike at your service, my lady,” he said politely, bowing low to her. He was her age and cut a handsome figure with wavy brown hair and deep brown eyes.  
“I am much obliged to you Ser Langdon. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” asked Lady Ailyn curiously, curtseying to him.  
“I am the King’s Master Archer, my lady. I am here to offer you a private gallery for this afternoon if you are interested in stretching your bow. I hear it is quite a fine one,” offered Ser Langdon kindly.  
“My bow?” repeated Ailyn in surprise.  
“Yes, while it surprises me, I confess, I have it on authority that you are an excellent shot,” he insisted.  
“And who told you this?” asked Lady Ailyn, although she already had a suspicion.  
He didn’t answer her directly but smiled again and glanced meaningfully at the ceiling.  
“I see,” said Ailyn.  
“I am to insist, my lady, if you refuse, but you must be anxious to be away from your room for a time?” pressed Ser Langdon gently.  
There was a soft noise behind Ailyn and she glanced around.  
Gana was holding her quiver and bow, taking care to look as innocent as she could.  
“Very well, Ser Langdon, will you wait here? I’d like to change into something that isn’t as constricting,” said Lady Ailyn gesturing to a chair.  
“Certainly.”  
Gana laid the quiver and bow on her bed and helped Ailyn change into a plain gown with very loose, short sleeves behind a large screen at the other end of the room.  
“Stop looking at me like that, Gana,” whispered Lady Ailyn as Gana tugged at her sleeves.  
“I can smile if I like, my lady,” Gana whispered back, sneaking around behind her and closing up the back of Ailyn’s dress.  
Ailyn walked with Ser Langdon down past the armory and into a small outdoor courtyard. There were two targets set up at the other end of the yard and a long table near where they entered held several other bows and a large selection of differently feathered arrows.  
Ailyn and Ser Langdon chatted for nearly an hour about each of the arrows and their fletching before choosing a few to shoot. Her aim was a little off in the first few shots but gradually, she found her rhythm and the proper tension for the new arrows. Ser Langdon seemed impressed and only offered a few small changes to her grip which enabled her to shoot more accurately.  
“I’m afraid I can’t shoot any more today, Ser Langdon. My arm has no strength left,” she said breathlessly, several hours later.  
“You’ve a better arm than many men I’ve trained,” remarked Ser Langdon, helping her take off her quiver.  
“It’s more due to stubbornness than strength,” replied Lady Ailyn, gladly surrendering her bow and flexing her aching fingers.  
“Women are generally better at that too,” quipped Ser Langdon opening the door for her.  
Ailyn laughed happily as they walked back to her room where he took his leave after promising to return in a few days.

The day after, Serena Farus, the aging, but still most sought after dressmaker in Westeros, paid Lady Ailyn a visit. She was older than Ailyn remembered, her hair dyed black to hide her age though the lines about her eyes and mouth betrayed her. Lord Silvyn had once tried to get an appointment with her for Ailyn’s sixteenth name day but she had refused them as a ‘lesser’ house.   
Without waiting for Gana to let her in, Serena waltz in followed by a small entourage of hand maidens carrying baskets of ribbons and pins and several muscular men carrying four large bolts of fabric each. The predominant color selection was blue and grey; colors she had often worn in King’s Landing.  
“Come, come Lady Ailyn, you are in the capitol of Westeros! You should not be seen walking around in such rags,” tittered Serena, circling Lady Ailyn while looking her up and down, her bright yellow gown fluttering around her.  
“This is one of my nicer dresses, Ms. Farus,” protested Ailyn, crossing her arms over her chest protectively.  
“Please, call me Serena. That color goes well with your hair and eyes but a great deal more could be done with the stitching. Your natural elegance is being underplayed.”  
“I have a few gowns that show my neck and shoulders,” protested Ailyn.  
“Really dear, I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner. Showing off a shapely neck is a good start but you can do better than that. What are dresses for?” she asked Ailyn, waiting for a reply like a tutor.  
“To show off one’s wealth and taste,” replied Ailyn, hazarding the best guess she could.  
“To a point, yes. However, the most common answer I receive when I ask this question is ‘to make other women jealous’ and ‘to attract men,’” Serena Farus informed Ailyn, still making measurements with her golden brown eyes.   
“I can assure you I have no intention of doing either,” replied Ailyn immediately.  
“Then why are you at court, my lady?” Serena returned, snapping her jeweled fingers at one of the men holding the bolts of blue cloth.  
“Lord Tywin didn’t inform you?” asked Ailyn pointedly.  
Serena cleared her throat.  
“If you have Lord Tywin Lannister’s attention, my lady, you had better do all you can to keep it. I am here to ensure those startling eyes of his never leave you if you are both in the same room.”  
“I’m not interested in flirting with him, Serena,” protested Ailyn, blushing.  
Serena sighed heavily, clearly disappointed.  
“I can teach you how to dress and walk dear, I can’t teach you how to act like a woman too.”  
“I like these two colors with silver stitching on the bodice,” Ailyn redirected hurriedly, pointing at a bright blue and a complimentary grey for the inner layer.  
“Excellent. Those shades will look exquisite on you,” said Serena, motioning the men who were holding the bolts Ailyn mentioned forward.  
“For one evening gown, how much will the cost be?” asked Ailyn, running a hand over the grey fabric.  
“Oh don’t trouble yourself with the cost, dear,” began the dressmaker, already digging through the ribbon baskets for threads.  
“Serena, I will not have any dress made that I am not allowed to pay for,” said Ailyn firmly.  
Serena blinked at her.  
“But Lord Tywin has…” she started to say but Ailyn finished for her.  
“…taken the trouble of arranging this appointment for me. I will accept his gesture but not his money. Those are my terms.”  
Serena paused, deciding if she should press Ailyn but the sternness in her eyes changed her mind.  
The dressmaker broke into a knowing smile and dismissed the men from the room, the chosen bolts were left behind on the table.  
“Am I amusing?” asked Ailyn, not understanding the woman’s smile.  
Serena shook her head.  
“He said you would argue. Very well, my price is 100 gold,” said Serena.  
“For these fabrics and wonders you can do with them, that still seems a bit low,” countered Ailyn wanting the full truth from the dressmaker.  
“Ah, I am extending the discount to you that I always give Lord Tywin. He has been an excellent customer over the years,” explained Serena, pulling several spools of silver thread from a basket and a thin strip of leather for her measurements.  
“For his daughter?” asked Ailyn curiously.  
“Yes and his wife, when she was still alive, bless her.”  
“You knew Joanna Lannister?”  
“I knew only as much as she chose to share with me. I am a dressmaker, dear, not a lady,” replied Serena but she could see Ailyn was interested.  
“What was she like, if you don’t mind my asking?” pressed Ailyn.  
Serena sighed and got a faraway look in her eye.   
“I’ve been to all the great houses of Westeros over the years and across the Narrow Sea a few times. In all my visits, of all the women I’ve met and dressed, she was among the best. I could have dressed her in filthy rags and she would still have had the beauty and bearing of a queen; always confident in her decisions, never wavering. She knew what power was and how to wield it better than most,” recounted Serena in an admiring tone.  
“Did Lord Tywin love her?” asked Ailyn quietly.  
“From what I have seen of him, he is not an affectionate man, at least, not publicly. But in private, according to Lady Joanna, he was butter in her slender fingers. I was lucky enough to have seen them together a few times. He always had a certain look in his eyes when she was before him,” Serena went on not looking at Ailyn, as she straightened the length of leather.  
“If you don’t mind my saying, Lady Ailyn, when he spoke of you, well it was not the same look, but perhaps the ghost of the way he used to look at his wife,” Serena told her quietly, glancing over at her.  
Ailyn turned to the side so she couldn’t see her face. Lady Ailyn swallowed hard and blinked a few times. Gana gently pressed her hand inconspicuously.  
“Now, hold still and don’t mind me, dear. Arms out, chin up, good,” Serena crooned, as she wound the leather strap around Ailyn waist.   
The markings on it must have made sense to Serena because she started calling out numbers to one of her assistants who had appeared at her side with a quill and a long sheet of parchment. Gana and Din took several steps back and watched Serena and her assistants flit around Ailyn like brightly colored birds.   
Several hours later, Serena had all the measurements she needed and a few rough sketches of what the dress would look like when she was finished. Ailyn took care not to look it, but she was as excited as a little girl on her name day.  
“Thank you, Serena. I look forward to the finished product,” said Ailyn, walking with her to the door.  
“You will look amazing in it, my dear,” replied Serena.  
And with a quick smile and a rather grandmotherly pinch of Ailyn’s cheek, she swept out to tend to the next lady who required her attention.

The day after, the King’s Master of Horse took her riding on her horse, Raena, with a small contingent of soldiers. The man’s mouth dropped open when Ailyn mounted her horse like a man and took off like a shot but he soon learned to keep up and not ask questions. As Ailyn reached the top of the hill next to the Red Keep, she paused and looked out over the city, her grey eyes coming to rest on the God’s Gate and the road back to Willow Glen. Strangely, the desire she felt to leave King’s Landing was weakening.  
“We should head in soon, my lady,” he suggested, pulling his own black stallion around.  
Ailyn nodded and led Raena around back into the palace.

Unfortunately, the following day Lady Ailyn awoke racked with abdominal pain, her sheets stained with her moonblood. Gana helped Ailyn change into a clean under dress while Din pulled off the soiled bedding. Lady Ailyn slumped back into the bed after taking a little milk of the poppy and dozed fitfully for the better part of the morning. Gana closed the curtains around her bed to keep out the painful light and Din found a stone to heat by the hearth for Ailyn’s stomach as she had done in Harrenhal. Ailyn thought she heard a knock on the door around midday but Gana did not come to her with a message.  
Later that evening, Ailyn felt well enough to eat and asked who her visitor had been.  
“There were two, my lady. The first was Lady Genna. She wished to see how you were and was sorry that you were in distress. She promised to come again in a day or so,” said Gana, pouring Ailyn a mild cup of tea.  
Ailyn nodded and took a few sips.  
“The second visitor was Lord Varys, my lady.”  
Ailyn frowned.  
“Why did he come?” asked Ailyn curiously.  
“He simply wished you to know that Lord Tywin was going to open the Throne room for petitions in two days,” Gana replied.  
“That was all he said?”  
“Yes.”  
“Perhaps he wishes me to go?” wondered Ailyn.  
“I don’t know why else he would seek you out,” agreed Gana.  
Ailyn pensively ate a few bites of dinner and then moved back to the bed in search of more dreamless sleep.

Even though the personal tutor to the Lannisters left several rare volumes in her care the following day, Ailyn couldn’t concentrate on them. She paced around her room and went for a long walk along the parapets on the walls of the city. There was a putrid smell in the air and even from where she was standing high above them, Ailyn could see hundreds of people sitting in the streets, in rags; most looked hungry and frightened but there were a few that looked angry. They scared Ailyn the most. She went back to her room and considered going to Lord Tywin. Something had to be done about the city now that it no longer needed protecting from outside threats. Now it needed to be protected from itself.  
Ailyn spent a restless night tossing and turning. She rose with the sun and took care to dress well. Gana came with her to the Throne room and Ailyn took up a space near a column that would hide her from view of the throne. Gradually, other nobles filled the hall as well as a long line of petitioners who were kept under heavy guard.  
The hall was filled with the muted buzzing of hushed conversation but it suddenly ceased when the Hand of the King entered. Ailyn watched him walk across the dais and sit carefully on the throne. His movements were tighter, more controlled than usual but his face betrayed no pain or discomfort only grim determination.  
With a curt nod, he bid the first petitioner to come forward.  
Over the course of two hours, the Hand listened to dozens of requests from high ranking merchants, down to a defeated looking baker who was practically on his knees begging for grain to feed his children and keep his business from collapsing. Other petitioners who were in the same position as the baker grew querulous at the Hand’s callous dismissal.  
‘But my lord, there is no grain coming in from the Riverlands! Your armies have burned everything,” cried the man desperately as two members of the King’s guard grabbed his arms.  
“Enough! This session is ended,” pronounced the Hand of the King coldly.  
The King’s guard and soldiers of the City Watch began clearing out the room. A wild scream suddenly cut through the air as several petitioners drew concealed swords and started fighting the guards. Lord Tywin stood up, glaring furiously at the rioters. Lord Baelish and Lord Varys watched uneasily from Lord Tywin’s side. Ailyn looked on in horror as the small uprising was brutally put down; nearly a third of the petitioners, even ones who had not been armed, were cut down under the Hand’s orders.  
When the hall was clear and secure, Lord Tywin stalked off the dais and headed to the rear doors leading out of the Throne room. Ailyn quickly strode down the length of the balcony, down the stairs and out a side door she knew led to a hallway that Lord Tywin was sure to use. Gana followed her closely and came to a stop with her mistress several yards away from the Hand of the King who was surrounded by members of his small council.  
At Ailyn’s request, Gana went meekly up to the small gathering of men and waited patiently until Lord Baelish noticed her. Lord Tywin turned his head to look at Ailyn’s maid and listened intently as she spoke. The Hand nodded once when she was finished and turned to look at Lady Ailyn. His face betrayed no emotion as he sent his small council away. Lord Varys met her gaze as he walked past her but did not speak. Lady Ailyn moved to stand with Lord Tywin, sending Gana back to the room as she joined him.  
Lady Ailyn opened her mouth to speak but Lord Tywin raised a hand and gestured to a nearby room.  
“We can speak privately in here,” he said quietly, stretching his arm out behind her to move her forward though he took care not to touch her.  
A guard opened the door for them to a small elegantly furnished room with a large wooden table in the center of it. When they were alone, Lady Ailyn asked softly, “How are you, my lord?”  
“Healing quickly, according to Pycelle,” replied Tywin, standing before her, his pale green eyes roving over her even though he was still agitated from the disturbance in the hall.  
Ailyn gestured to the chairs at the table.  
“We can sit if you prefer.”  
“I’m fine,” insisted Lord Tywin, a little impatiently.  
Ailyn smiled at him almost affectionately and reminded him, “There’s no need to put on a front for me.”  
Lord Tywin’s jaw worked for a moment while he considered her. In the end, he compromised; he didn’t sit down but leaned against the table.  
“I have been meaning to thank you for…” began Ailyn looking away shyly, unsure of how to phrase her appreciation.  
Lord Tywin stopped her with a raised hand.  
“There’s no need to thank me, my lady. I am in your debt,” explained Lord Tywin, lowering his hand back to the table.  
Ailyn frowned in confusion.  
“You’ve saved my life twice now since I’ve met you,” said Tywin Lannister.  
“And I would argue that we are even since I credit you with saving mine twice as well,” responded Ailyn with a smile.  
At Lord Tywin’s frown, it was Ailyn’s turn to raise her hand to stem his retort.  
“As always, my lord, we shall agree to disagree,” concluded Ailyn gently.  
“You came to hear the petitioners, this morning. Why?” asked Lord Tywin curiously.   
“I came to hear how you intended to deal with them more than what they were petitioning for, my lord,” answered Ailyn, sure that this conversation was going to spiral rapidly into another fight she did not want to have.  
Lord Tywin arched one golden eyebrow at her.  
“And now that you have heard my decisions, I suppose you have some opinions about them,” said the Hand of the King with a slight edge in his tone.  
Ailyn cast her eyes down to the floor and took a steadying breath.  
“My lord, I have no wish to quarrel with you again or cause you more pain than you’ve already suffered but you must see that you cannot continue to treat the people as you are,” cautioned Ailyn, meeting his eyes again.  
“I saved this city. They should be grateful to have their miserable lives,” began Tywin, growing angry.  
“You cannot take in a stray dog, lock it in a cellar for it to starve to death and call that saving it,” Ailyn countered. “You’ve won, my lord. You have the throne you’ve fought and bled for and all you’ve used it for thus far is the further aggrandizement of your own family.”  
“I do not need to justify my actions to you,” warned Lord Tywin, narrowing his eyes at her.  
“Did you not just witness the riot in Hall after you sent the baker away with nothing? The people have every reason to hate your family, my lord, thanks to the cruelty of King Joffrey,” insisted Lady Ailyn undeterred by his looks.  
“A lion doesn’t concern himself with the opinions of a sheep,” growled the Lord of Casterly Rock.  
“Those sheep are your responsibility. There are tens of thousands of starving peasants in the streets my lord and more come in everyday. They are looking to you to help them since you burned their livelihoods. There are thousands of them and only a few hundred of us; all that stands in between, are a few thousand untested soldiers loyal to the crown as long as they are paid. If this situation does not terrify you, it should,” summarized Ailyn, desperately hoping he was hearing her words and not focusing on the fact that she was scolding him.  
“Your own situation is becoming more dangerous by the second,” threatened Lord Tywin standing up and advancing on her.  
“Please listen to me, my lord. You have brought most of the kingdoms to their knees. Now you must help them to rise. Those are your words, are they not?” Ailyn tried again, taking a small step back and raising her hands in submission.  
Lord Tywin stopped and considered her, his countenance still thunderous.  
Ailyn could feel tears creeping into her eyes as his cold fury washed over her. Whatever bond they had, she felt she was breaking it with each word she spoke.  
“Even if you take my head for this, all I ask is that you do something for the people before it is too late,” Ailyn begged, her voice starting to shake.  
Some of his anger ebbed as he watched her struggle not to burst into tears.  
“You are the most impressive man I’ve ever met,” whispered Ailyn, taking a step toward him.  
She reached out hesitantly and gently cupped his cheek in her hand, his stubble pricking her palm. He didn’t move and continued to frown down at her.  
“I just wish you to see the man you could be, as I see you,” Lady Ailyn said sadly. She took her hand away from his face and even though he was still clearly displeased, he moved his head slightly to follow her hand, wanting her to keep touching him.  
Ailyn searched his face for any sign that he was considering her words but the hard look in his eyes didn’t change. She clasped her hands in front of her and made herself say, “I will be in my room when you send your guards for me.”  
She curtseyed dejectedly and without looking at his face again, turned and left the room. Ailyn moved quickly past the guards, wiping her eyes. Behind her, she heard Lord Tywin bellow for Ser Kevan. When she reached the long hallway back to her room, she broke into a run as she began to cry freely. A startled looking guard opened her door and she ran blindly past him.  
“My lady!” exclaimed Gana, moving toward her distraught mistress. Ailyn threw her arms around her friend and sobbed bitterly into her shoulder.  
“Tell me what happened,” insisted Gana quietly, when Ailyn’s wild sobs had died down.  
“It’s over, Gana. If he cared for me before, he surely doesn’t now. I’ve pushed my position with him too far,” said Ailyn brokenly.  
Gana helped Ailyn over to the fire and sat down with her on the divan.   
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I had to keep lecturing him like a pathetic insect worrying a giant,” mumbled Ailyn, staring at her lap.  
“You were trying to get him to see reason, to be a good ruler. There is no shame in that,” soothed Gana, taking her hand.  
“No but he may never speak to me again. And that thought cuts deeper than a blade. I’ve taken everything he’s done this week to gain my good opinion again and thrown it in his face,” realized Ailyn miserably.  
“You don’t think he will hurt you?” asked Gana, glancing at the door.  
“I don’t know what he’ll do. Perhaps you and Din should leave. I don’t want you to suffer because of my self important stupidity,” suggested Ailyn, shuddering at the idea.  
“We will not leave you, my lady,” said Din quietly behind them.  
Ailyn jumped a little, not noticing her until she spoke. She smiled at the quiet, dark haired girl affectionately.  
“Then we will wait to be dismissed,” decided Ailyn, feeling dead inside.   
She fell silent after that, brooding before the fire. Gana rose and left her alone after some time. Ailyn paced around the room distractedly a few times and then came to stand before the fire, staring down into it, lost in the dark landscape of her thoughts.   
Hours crept past and evening descended but still, Ailyn didn’t move. She was so oblivious to the world around her that she didn’t hear the knock on her door or Gana answering it.  
She only snapped back to reality when Gana touched her lightly on the arm. Ailyn jumped and glanced over at her.  
“If you please, my lady, Lord Tywin wishes to speak with you,” said Gana, urgently.  
Ailyn’s eyes went wide as she saw his tall figure standing just inside the door, his gaze fixed on her. He was alone. Ailyn looked back into the fire and nodded her assent, her heart suddenly thudding uncomfortably in her chest. And then he was beside her, a silent presence.  
“My lord,” said Ailyn softly, looking at his leather boots.  
“My lady,” she heard him say.  
There was a long silence.  
“You displeased me today,” said Tywin Lannister.  
Ailyn winced.  
“I am sorry for it, my lord. That was not my intention,” Ailyn apologized, still not able to meet his gaze.  
Lord Tywin shifted his position next to her, turning his body to face her and bracing himself on the mantel with one long arm.  
“Of all my so-called advisors, you are the only one who would dare say half the things you said to me this morning,” the Hand of the King informed her.  
“I didn’t realize I held such an exalted position with you,” replied Ailyn, her eyes making it halfway up his chest before she lost her nerve and looked at the floor again.  
“And I didn’t realize how much I valued your good opinion until it was plain I had lost it,” murmured Lord Tywin.  
Ailyn searched her whirling brain for something to say but words failed her.  
“You are the first person who has been disappointed with me and your disapproval bothers me,” he continued. There was no malice in his tone, only sudden realization.   
“I am not without faults, but, after today, I know I cannot continue as I have if I wish my family to retain the throne.”  
Ailyn blushed and looked distractedly into the flames, blinking rapidly, unsure of what say.  
“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered, not trusting herself to look at him.  
“I’m telling you this because you can see things more clearly than I. You are not blinded by the Lannister tradition of ambition. I’m telling you because I wish you to stay,” replied Lord Tywin, focusing on her.  
“I’ve never had any other option,” she countered gently, gaining the nerve to look up at him.  
“The roads are safe enough now. I will send you home at once under escort if you so desire. But I would prefer that you remained,” said Lord Tywin again.  
Ailyn thought back to how she felt looking out at the road that led home.  
“Ever since we marched away from Willow Glen, all I’ve wanted is for you to send me back. But now that you are releasing me, I don’t want to leave nearly as much as I once did,” explained Ailyn, confused.  
“Then stay.”  
Ailyn gave him a pained look.  
“I would like to but I cannot remain here as I am. My position has become too confusing,” she began but Lord Tywin raised a hand.  
“If you stayed, your position would be assured and above question,” he pronounced firmly.  
“And what would that be, my lord? Are you asking me to sit on your Small Council?” asked Ailyn with grim humor, glancing at him.  
“No.”  
Lord Tywin reached out and very gently took her hands in his and held them together between them. Ailyn looked at their joined hands and then up at Lord Tywin. He too was focused on her hands and brushed his thumb lightly over her fingers. Then he looked up at her, his green eyes searching hers.  
“I’m asking you to marry me.”


	25. Her Answer

“I’m asking you to marry me,” said Lord Tywin quietly, watching her face for a reaction.  
Ailyn’s eyes went wide in surprise. She suddenly felt very warm and a buzzing filled her ears. Ailyn could have sworn the ground was shifting beneath her feet though neither of them moved.  
“You’re…but…my lord, we disagree on everything!” she exclaimed as her brain tried to start working again.  
“If I want blind agreement and thoughtless consent, I’ll look to my Small Council. I need someone to disagree with me,” said Lord Tywin, not letting go of her hands even though she had taken a small step back.  
“Does your family know about this?” asked Ailyn, suppressing a shiver at the idea of Cersei finding out her father was proposing marriage.  
“Kevan knows I intend to ask you. I see no reason to make it public until I have an answer from you,” replied Tywin, growing a little anxious at her continuing hesitancy.  
“I…” began Ailyn but then stopped, unsure of what to say. Her head was spinning with a thousand questions and no answers.   
She looked down to the side and then into the flames, clearly distressed.  
“My lady, before you answer, I wish you to know that I am making you an offer. You are free to refuse without fear of retaliation from me,” Tywin assured her, trying to help her in her struggle.  
She met his eyes gratefully.  
“Thank you,” she whispered.  
His face fell a little.  
“Is that a refusal?” asked Lord Tywin, a sudden vulnerability tingeing his tone.  
Ailyn quickly looked up at him and pressed his hands.  
“No.”  
She looked away for a moment to gather her thoughts and then back up at him.  
“But nor do I feel able to accept without thinking this through. Please don’t be offended,” she pleaded as his grip on her hands loosened.  
He looked away from her for the first time but not for long.  
“I was hoping you would answer tonight but I can’t say I’m surprised that you wish for time to consider. You have never acted rashly,” said Lord Tywin.  
She smiled at him.  
“I would prefer to speak to my father but I won’t ask you to wait that long. Will you let me come to you tomorrow night with an answer?” she asked hopefully, searching his face.  
Lord Tywin nodded.  
“Thank you for your forbearance,” Ailyn said softly.  
Lord Tywin slowly lowered their hands and reluctantly let hers go. He seemed to want to say something else but he did not speak. Instead, Lord Tywin raised a hand and gently touched her cheek with his fingertips, his eyes unfocused. Ailyn leaned into his hand slightly to show that she didn’t mind but her movement recalled him to the present. He took his hand away and retreated a step. Tywin respectfully inclined his head to her and then turned to go.  
“Lord Tywin?” said Ailyn as he started moving toward the door.  
He paused and turned to look at her expectantly.  
Ailyn went to him and said quietly, “Regardless of my reply, my lord, I want you to know that I will never regret walking into your camp.”  
“You enjoyed being dragged around in the cold and mud for a month?” he asked, his expression softening into mild amusement.  
“No. But I am the stronger for it,” she replied in earnest.  
Tywin nodded and looked down at the floor for a moment.  
“This war has cost far more than I anticipated. Some of its disadvantages are beginning to outweigh the advantages,” said Lord Tywin, more thinking aloud than speaking to her.  
He looked up pointedly at her and added, “But I count meeting you among its highest advantages,” said Lord Tywin sincerely.  
Ailyn blushed.  
“You are too generous, my lord,” she replied with a smile.  
“It’s the truth,” insisted the Lord of Casterly Rock, without affectation.  
She could only smile and nod.  
“Good night, my lord.”  
“Until tomorrow, my lady.”  
When he had gone, Ailyn drew in as deep a breath as she could and reached out to steady herself on something. Gana and Din were suddenly at her side, leading her to a chair.  
“My lady! You must be so pleased. And you didn’t think he would ask you!” whispered Gana excitedly.  
“Wine,” Ailyn managed, her voice croaked. “I don’t think it’s excitement that’s making my hands shake.”  
Din left her to fill a goblet.  
“There’s so much to consider and his proposal was so sudden that I’m having a hard time believing it,” muttered Ailyn, taking a long drink of wine.  
“We both heard him, my lady,” said Gana, still excited.  
“And this morning, he was so angry and now tonight…” Ailyn trailed off.  
“Perhaps he talked with someone?” suggested Din quietly.  
“He did shout for Ser Kevan as I left him,” recalled Ailyn.  
Ailyn shook her head.  
“Thank you both for being with me but now I need some time to think,” requested Ailyn gently dismissing them for the night.   
Both girls curtseyed to her and turned down her bed in case she decided to sleep.  
Ailyn got up and began pacing around.  
There would be no going home if she agreed to marry him. It could be years before she saw Willow Glen again. Ailyn desperately wanted to speak to her father but she had a feeling she already knew his opinion. Lord Darren hadn’t been good enough for her but she doubted he would have any objection to wedding her to the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms.  
Ailyn paused in front of the table with her flowers on it. He was still sending her lavender and now there was a fresh red rose paired with it every day. She touched the petals absently. She didn’t doubt that he cared for her but he still frightened her. It was one thing to argue with the Lion but what if she went too far one day; before she knew what he would stand from her and what he wouldn’t. Ailyn couldn’t bear the thought of him threatening everything she held dear in order to teach her obedience.  
There would have to be rules, at least at first, until they were more used to each other.  
Ailyn stayed awake long into the night, considering, deciding until finally, a few hours before dawn, she forced herself to go to bed. She struggled to picture Lord Tywin sleeping next to her and failed; she always thought of him sleeping alone.   
It had been reassuring to have Lord Darren sleeping beside her. Ailyn hoped it would be the same with Lord Tywin.  
* * * *

The guard outside the Hand’s chambers turned and entered the room to announce her presence when she arrived that evening. Ailyn waited in the doorway though she could see Lord Tywin and Ser Kevan speaking together near the Hand’s desk. He dismissed the guard with his hand and his brother with a nod of the head. Ser Kevan smiled warmly at her as he left and she returned it.   
At least one member of the Lannister family won’t hate me.  
Ailyn steadied herself and entered the room, moving to stand before Lord Tywin. He looked pleased to see her but there was a small amount of trepidation in his eyes as well. She smiled and curtseyed to him.  
“Good evening, my lord,” she heard herself say out of habit.  
“My lady,” was his measured response.  
“Have you made a decision?” he asked after a moment, when she failed to speak.  
Ailyn looked into his pale green eyes and prayed that she was making the right choice.  
“I will accept your offer, my lord,” she began, pleased by the immediate quirk at the corner of his mouth that passed for a smile, “but there are some things I would like to discuss before we make it known to the public.”  
His eyes searched her face, his grim countenance descending once more.   
“Tell me, what do you fear the most about joining yourself to me?” asked Tywin curiously, before she could speak.  
“I remember what you said the first night I was in camp with you about women and their purpose. What I fear most is being tucked away and ignored until I’m wanted to please you. I don’t want you to treat me like that,” replied Ailyn softly.  
“It would be a callous waste to treat you like that. As the wife of the Hand, you will have certain responsibilities but I know you to be capable of far more than the average woman,” Tywin assured her.  
Ailyn smiled.  
“I should like to have a contract of sorts drawn up between us so that everything is clear. If I should outlive you, it is my wish that your possessions will pass to your children. Not to me,” requested Ailyn firmly.  
Lord Tywin frowned at her.   
“And leave you with nothing? Why would you wish for that?” asked Lord Tywin, his displeasure increasing.  
“Please, my lord, let me speak. We don’t know each other very well and from what I know of your family, I only ask for this to protect myself,” explained Lady Ailyn, hoping to temper his anger.  
“Protect yourself from what?” demanded Lord Tywin.  
“At the very least, from your children. If you marry me, you threaten their legitimacy and inheritance. Your daughter in particular, will not stand for that, especially if she feels her son’s claim to the throne could be called into question,” replied Ailyn.  
“Cersei is already aware of what will happen to her if she harms you in any way. I will not tolerate her petty jealousy,” said Lord Tywin firmly.  
“I’m afraid I must insist,” Ailyn said softly.  
“Many would consider marrying me to be extremely advantageous and yet you appear to gain nothing by it, if you have your way,” protested Lord Tywin, still confused.  
Ailyn smiled at him.  
“I am trying to make a point to you and anyone else that cares to comment on our union.”  
“And what is that?” growled Tywin Lannister, trying not to lose his patience.  
“I’m not interested in the throne. I don’t want power; I don’t want Casterly Rock and I don’t want your money.”  
If anything, this confused the great lion even more.  
“Then what do you want?” he asked, trying to understand the creature in front of him.  
“You,” said Lady Ailyn simply.   
It hurt her to watch him try to reconcile the idea that his possessions were separate from himself, that they did not define who he was.   
“I want the right to stand beside you, if not as your equal, then as your partner. You are tasked with the responsibility of rebuilding the Seven Kingdoms and uniting them under your sigil. I want to help you do this in any way I can. I want you to share your troubles and concerns with me when you feel able. I want you to trust me,” Ailyn requested, trying to gauge Lord Tywin’s feelings.  
She could see his jaw working. Tywin dropped his gaze down to his desk and then turned around suddenly, his head still bowed. Ailyn watched his shoulders rise and fall a few times, as though he was taking deep breaths. She waited patiently. After a moment, he looked off to the right and held out his hand for her. She gave him her hand and let him move her around to face him again.  
“You must be patient with me,” said Lord Tywin quietly.  
“And you with me,” she added with a smile.  
Tywin clasped both her hands in his and then shook his head.  
“I will leave provisions behind for your care if you should outlive me. I will not disinherit my children but you will be provided for. This is non-negotiable,” insisted Lord Tywin, meeting her eyes again.  
“Very well, I can accept that,” Ailyn conceded, nodding.  
“What else?” he asked.  
“If you are giving me leave to disagree with you in the hopes that together, we can come to a more satisfactory solution than apart, I want your word that if I go too far, or cross some line with you, that you will forgive me. I was frightened of you this morning, my lord. If I marry you, you cannot threaten me or those I care for,” Ailyn said, squeezing his hands.  
“I have a temper but I promise you, I will never raise a hand against you,” swore the Lord of Lannister.  
“Or my maids,” she was quick to add.  
“Or your maids,” he agreed.  
“Do you have requests to make of me, my lord?” Lady Ailyn asked, looking up at him.  
“While I wish you to speak your mind with me in private, you will not disagree with me in public. We should present a united front to others for the sake of the throne,” said Lord Tywin.  
“I understand,” Ailyn answered.  
“Also, I will listen to your thoughts on many things, my lady, but not my actions as a parent. Until you are one yourself, there will be things you cannot understand,” said Lord Tywin quietly, not wanting to cause her pain.  
Ailyn swallowed and asked hesitantly, “And if I become a parent, the child will be a hawk?”  
“A lion,” corrected Lord Tywin. “As a third born son, there will be no contention about the inheritance of Casterly Rock.”  
Ailyn smiled at his assumption that any child she had would be a boy.  
“We will discuss that more if needs be,” she suggested, not wishing to fall out over something that might never happen.  
Lord Tywin nodded and pressed her hands.  
“Are you agreeing to marry me then?”  
“If, after all these stipulations, you still wish for my hand, I will give it and gladly,” vowed Lady Ailyn, smiling.  
Lord Tywin placed her hands on his chest and gently cupped her face in his hands. Tywin drew her close to him and kissed her lightly, awaiting her response to his actions. Ailyn sensed his hesitancy and pressed her lips more firmly against his. The lion made a soft noise in his throat and shifted one hand to the back of her head and the other around her waist so she was leaning into his chest. Ailyn slid her arms up and wrapped them around his neck. Lord Tywin tightened his grip on her but Ailyn broke the kiss and pulled back a little as his pin scratched her.  
“Your pin,” she said breathlessly, touching the small red mark it had made on her chest.  
The Hand relaxed his arms slightly so he could look down at her. Ailyn’s cheeks were flushed, her grey eyes sparkling in the candlelight. She raised her hand and gently touched his prickly stubble.  
“Your face is rough, my lord,” criticized Lady Ailyn.  
“Tywin,” said the Lord of Casterly Rock.  
Ailyn frowned in confusion.  
“You’ve just agreed to marry me. When we are alone, use my name,” requested Lord Tywin.  
Ailyn smiled.  
“Your face is rough, Tywin,” Ailyn repeated.  
“Then I shall shave…Ailyn,” he responded, testing her own name without a title.  
“Are we telling anyone tonight?” asked Ailyn, not taking her hand away from his face.  
“Yes, I will gather my family. And perhaps my Small Council should know as well,” said Lord Tywin.  
Lady Ailyn nodded and prepared herself for the variety of reactions they were likely to receive.  
Lord Tywin called for his cupbearer and sent the young man off to gather his remaining family.  
“Out of curiosity, which of the gifts pleased you the most this past week?” questioned Lord Tywin, leaning on his desk beside her.  
“They were all extremely generous gestures,” Ailyn began with a smile, “I am looking forward to the books, when things have settled down, and the dress.”  
Tywin made a thoughtful noise as he studied her.  
“If you are asking which gesture meant the most to me, it was the archery lesson,” Ailyn clarified.  
Lord Tywin’s gaze sharpened. It was not the answer he had been expecting.  
“Why?”  
“I remember your disapproval when you discovered I used a bow and I am sure, deep down, you still disapprove of my using a weapon. But despite your own feelings, you offered the lesson to me anyway because you knew it would please me. I appreciated that the most,” Ailyn told him affectionately.  
Lord Tywin regarded her thoughtfully.  
“Someday, I may figure you out,” he said.  
“I look forward to your future efforts,” replied Ailyn with a smile.  
There was an insistent knock on the door, and Lord Tywin’s cup bearer came in to say his family had been gathered.  
“Bring them in,” ordered Lord Tywin, standing up straight beside Lady Ailyn. “I will speak for us.”  
Ailyn nodded and fixed a smile on her face.  
Ser Kevan and Lady Genna were the first ones in, followed closely by Ser Jaime and Queen Cersei. Ser Kevan and Lady Genna looked pleased but the twins did not; Jaime looked nervous and Cersei’s expression was sour.  
“I summoned you here because I have an announcement to make. Lady Ailyn and I are going to be wed,” said Lord Tywin in a tone that brooked no contention.  
Kevan broke into a huge grin and Lady Genna clapped her hands excitedly a few times before wrapping Ailyn in a warm hug.  
“Congratulations, my dear,” she said quietly.  
Kevan moved forward to shake his brother’s hand but the twins did not move.  
Jaime looked surprised but Cersei was furious.  
“How dare you!” she snapped angrily, glaring at her father. “How dare you betray our mother’s memory for this…this…” the Queen gestured agitatedly at Lady Ailyn.  
“Cersei…” began Lord Tywin sternly, narrowing his eyes at her.  
“You disgust me,” hissed the lion’s daughter, and with that, she turned on her heel and fled the room.   
Jaime watched her go and looked back uncertainly at Lord Tywin. Without waiting for an order from his father, Jaime turned to leave. It was Ailyn who went to him.  
“Please, Ser Jaime, I would not have you think of me as a threat. I am not trying to replace your mother or take away your birthright,” said Ailyn quietly, looking up at the unsmiling knight.  
“Good. I think it would be awkward if you asked to be called ‘mother,’” replied Ser Jaime with his usual dry humor.  
“I would like you to call me ‘Ailyn’. At least, to my face,” she finished with a gentle jibe.  
Her remark was rewarded with a half grin. He looked at her for a moment and then said appraisingly, “You seem happy.”  
“Why shouldn’t I be?” asked Ailyn with a gentle shake of her head.  
Ser Jaime glanced back at Lord Tywin who was speaking with his sister but he was paying attention to them as well.  
“If I were going to marry my father, I would be terrified,” confided Ser Jaime in a low voice, bending down a little closer to her.  
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, my lady, I should go find my sister before she sets half the palace on fire.”  
Ser Jaime bowed politely to her and then swept out before she or anyone else could stop him.  
Lady Ailyn looked after him as he left, unsure of what to make of the son’s opinion of his father.  
“Give him some time, my lady, he will come around,” Ser Kevan assured her gently, coming to stand beside her.  
“I don’t blame either of them for their feelings, Ser Kevan. I know I would have thrown a terrible fit if my father had told me he was going to remarry,” replied Ailyn turning to her soon to be brother-in-law.   
“I can’t picture you throwing a fit, Lady Ailyn,” said Ser Kevan shaking his head with a smile.  
After they had exchanged several more kind remarks, Lady Genna and Ser Kevan left and the Small Council members slowly came into the room. Lord Tywin related the news to them as well.   
“Congratulations my lord, you have made an excellent choice,” simpered Pycelle, bowing to both of them.  
“Indeed, my Lord Hand, Lady Ailyn will look exquisite on your arm,” rejoined Lord Varys politely.  
“Pray, when are the nuptials to take place?” inquired Lord Baelish with a smirk that Ailyn didn’t care for.  
“In a few weeks,” answered Lord Tywin, without looking at Ailyn.  
It took every ounce of her self control not to look up at him in shock. She kept her eyes on Lord Baelish and her smile did not waver.  
“I see. We shall begin preparations tomorrow then. Come, we should leave them to enjoy their newfound happiness,” continued Lord Baelish with an annoying mixture of bravado and innuendo.  
The instant the door closed on them, Ailyn looked up at him, her eyebrows raised.  
“I do not recall discussing a date,” said Ailyn pointedly. “I haven’t even told my father yet.”  
“Lord Silvyn is aware of my wish to marry you,” said Lord Tywin simply.  
“What?” gasped Ailyn, a sinking feeling filling the pit of her stomach.  
“I sent him a raven yesterday informing him of my intentions,” explained Lord Tywin with mounting confusion at her agitation.  
“How could you do that? Tywin, don’t you realize what that must look like to him?” demanded Lady Ailyn, trying to keep the panic and annoyance out of her voice.  
“I don’t need your father’s consent. I am hardly an untested boy with his way still to make in the world,” Lord Tywin informed her.  
“But in my last raven, I told him I expected to be sent home soon. And now he has one from you saying you intend to marry me? He will think you are forcing me,” Ailyn retorted seriously, trying not to wring her hands.  
Lord Tywin frowned.  
“Then send him one tonight telling him the truth,” suggested Tywin, still unruffled by her concern.  
“It will reach him a day from now at the earliest. He will not get it in time,” said Ailyn more to herself than to Lord Tywin. She started pacing nervously in a small circle.  
“In time for what?” queried the Hand of the King.  
Ailyn stopped pacing and rounded on him.  
“The minute he reads that message from you, he will sail for King’s Landing with half his fleet. He could be here in two days to hold you to your word that you will release me,” Ailyn told him.  
The Lord of Casterly Rock’s frown deepened and he clasped her upper arms gently.  
“He will not take you from me,” growled the lion possessively.  
Ailyn slowly put her hands on his neck, her thumbs brushing against his rough cheeks.  
“He will not come for a fight. You must remember that. My father won’t want anything except to know that I’m safe,” pleaded Ailyn, looking earnestly into his eyes.  
Tywin nodded against her hands.  
“We will deal with it when he arrives. I will tell our scouts to watch for his ships and the roads too as a precaution,” agreed Tywin.  
Ailyn shook her head at him.  
“Your actions affect both of us now. You promised to include me in your decisions, Tywin,” said Ailyn, concern radiating from her expression.  
“I have spent the last few decades not including anyone in my decisions. It will take me some time to adjust to waiting on your input, Ailyn,” Tywin Lannister reminded her.  
“We will have to be patient with each other,” realized Ailyn, letting her hands slip back down to his chest. “This won’t be easy.”  
“No, it won’t. But I promise, you will not regret it,” Tywin assured her fervently.  
Ailyn smiled up at him, kissed him lightly and then had to stifle a yawn.  
“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” said Ailyn softly, putting her hand over her mouth.  
“I would ask you to stay but I know you won’t,” replied Lord Tywin, with a hint of affection.  
Ailyn shook her head, still smiling.  
“Then get some rest, my lady,” Lord Tywin said. Ailyn noted the change in his inflection on the possessive; as though he was proud of the fact that she was his.  
“Good night, my lord,” she replied, using the same emphasis.   
She slipped out of his grasp and almost made it to the door before he stopped her. Lord Tywin spun her around and pressed her up against the door without violence. Ailyn’s eyes went wide in surprise but before she could ask him anything, he kissed her again. She was thankful he was holding her up against the door; she didn’t trust her legs to bear her weight. Ailyn was relieved to find that, even though she was surrounded by him, his body, his scent, his presence, she did not feel threatened or nervous.   
“I didn’t mean to worry your father,” apologized Lord Tywin softly, above her head when he pulled back.  
“I know. He’ll only do what you would do if your situations were reversed. Except he won’t burn King’s Landing to the ground when he leaves,” murmured Ailyn, hanging onto his waist for support.  
“I wouldn’t…” began Lord Tywin but she pressed a finger gently against his lips.  
“Yes, you would,” she insisted, laughing a little.  
The side of his mouth tugged a little as he looked down at her.  
“Dinner tomorrow?” she asked.  
“I want to see you before dinner. We have much to discuss.”  
Ailyn nodded and without one last smile at her future husband, slid out of his arms and went back to her room.

 

Author’s note: Apologies for all the fluff but this is where it would happen, if anywhere. I should clarify that, if I haven’t mentioned a character yet, (i.e. Dany, Jon Snow, Arya, the Martells etc.) as much as I love all of them, they will not exist for this particular story. I don’t feel capable of keeping track of the Dickensian amount of plotlines. I am focusing on the Lannisters and their struggle to rule in this story.


	26. Lord Silvyn Arrives

“Am I betraying him, Gana?” asked Ailyn, early the next morning. She and her maid were sitting at the table, breakfast was before them but Lady Ailyn wasn’t eating.  
“Betraying who, my lady?” asked Gana, concerned.  
“Lord Darren. By marrying Lord Tywin, I…am I betraying him?” whispered Ailyn, looking down at a bowl of strawberries without really seeing them.  
Oh, my lady, it isn’t like that,” began Gana but the worried look in Ailyn’s eyes stopped her.  
Gana reached across the table and rested her hand over Ailyn’s.  
“Do you remember the conversation you had with Lord Darren the last time he was badly wounded?”  
Ailyn pressed her maid’s hand and then looked to the side, searching her memory.  
“He said that, if one of us should die early, that the other had a duty to remarry,” recounted Ailyn softly.  
“He did not want you to spend the rest of your life alone, Ailyn. You are following his wishes by marrying Lord Tywin,” insisted Gana gently.  
Ailyn’s eyes darted around the room making her look like a trapped animal.  
“He knew how much you loved him but now you must make room in your heart for another. Above all else, you know Lord Darren wished you to be happy and with Lord Tywin, perhaps you will find happiness again,” offered Gana kindly, trying to allay her mistress’ uneasiness.  
“You don’t regret your decision to marry him?” asked Gana cautiously, after Ailyn nodded but did not speak.  
Ailyn looked at her friend and said firmly, “No.”  
Gana smiled.  
“Then you must eat something and quickly. It’s already late morning and I’m sure Lord Tywin wishes to see you,” instructed Gana, patting Ailyn’s hand and rising to pick out a dress for her.  
Ailyn obediently selected a few honey cakes and a small pile of strawberries to have with her cup of tea.  
Gana chose Ailyn’s grey gown for the day and had just finished putting the last pin in Ailyn’s hair when there was an urgent knock on her door. Din moved swiftly to answer it. Lord Tywin strode in as soon as Din opened the door, without waiting to be announced.  
Ailyn stood up and went to him.  
“Lord Silvyn’s ships have been spotted several miles down the coast. It appears you were right,” said Lord Tywin without preamble.  
Ailyn smiled and shook her head.  
“It’s a good thing I didn’t ask for more than a day to consider your proposal,” said Ailyn ruefully.  
Lord Tywin didn’t speak but managed to look mildly apologetic.  
“Come with me to the Small Council room. We can watch the harbor from the balcony and when your father arrives, we will meet him in the Throne room,” explained Lord Tywin.  
Lord Tywin started to turn away but she stopped him with a light hand on his arm.  
“Remember what I said, my lord. He is not here for a fight. Please don’t treat him with hostility,” pleaded Ailyn.  
Lord Tywin removed her hand from his arm but kept hold of it.  
“I will treat him as his conduct warrants. Come,” he beckoned, gently tugging on her hand to move her forward.  
With a mild sense of foreboding, Ailyn followed her prospective husband out of her room and walked with him down to the Small Council chamber where they were met by the Small Council, Ser Kevan, Ser Jaime and a handful of guards.  
“Good morning, my lord, my lady,” began Lord Baelish bowing low to them, the rest of the Small Council following suit.  
“Baelish,” acknowledged Lord Tywin, reluctantly letting go of Lady Ailyn’s hand and then turning abruptly to his son, Lord Commander of the King’s Guard.  
“Jaime, take some men and send word to Lord Silvyn that his ship may pass into our harbor but the others will keep a respectful distance. When he docks, escort him to the Throne,” ordered the Hand of the King.  
Ser Jaime inclined his head and left without saying a word to his father, taking the rest of the guards with him.  
“Kevan, is the King on the throne?” asked Lord Tywin, turning to face his sibling.  
“Yes, my lord, and his wife is with him as well. The King’s Guard, City Watch and a small retinue of Lannister soldiers are waiting in the throne room as well,” offered Ser Kevan, with a kind nod to Lady Ailyn.  
“Is all that really necessary?” asked Ailyn worriedly.  
“A show of strength is seldom unnecessary. I am not taking any chances,” said Lord Tywin firmly.  
“If I might, my lord hand, why is Lord Silvyn sailing on us with a large fleet?” asked Lord Varys respectfully.  
“A small miscommunication, Varys; my lady assures me that he is not here to threaten the throne,” replied Lord Tywin, taking Lady Ailyn’s hand again and walking with her to the balcony.  
Lady Ailyn stood quietly at Lord Tywin’s side while they waited. She wanted some assurance from Lord Tywin that he would not attack her father but she knew he would not promise her that, not if his own was in danger. Ailyn let out an anxious breath and continued looking out at the harbor. She saw Lord Tywin glance at her out of the corner of her eye but he did not speak. After what seemed like an age, they watched Lord Silvyn’s ship glide into the harbor.  
“Come, we should be standing by the throne when Lord Silvyn is ushered in,” said Lord Tywin quietly, turning to her.  
Ailyn nodded, unable to speak and followed Lord Tywin to the door. The Small Council fell into step behind them and walked with them to the main hall.  
Many members of the court had gathered and were standing behind the guards lining the path to the throne. Lord Tywin frowned when he saw Queen Margery and his daughter seated on either side of King Tommen. Ailyn stopped a few feet behind Lord Tywin as he strode up to his daughter and told her to stand.  
“You will stand off to the side, Cersei. The king should not be flanked by women,” said Lord Tywin firmly, taking his daughter by the elbow and moving her away from her seat.  
The obsolete queen narrowed her green eyes furiously but did not speak back to her father. Instead, she shot a look of pure poison at Lady Ailyn and went to go stand beside Lord Baelish, still scowling.  
Lord Tywin paid no further attention to his slighted daughter once she had left and bent down to speak quietly to the King. Then he straightened and tensed, clasping both hands behind his back to wait. After a brief pause, the lion looked to the side and then back at Lady Ailyn, motioning her forward with his eyes alone. Ailyn complied and moved to stand again at his side, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She knew her father could be stubborn and she knew something of Lord Tywin’s temper; she hoped it would not go badly between the two most important men in her life.  
The court waited in tense silence for the arrival of the Hawk. Suddenly, the main doors opened and Ser Jaime escorted her father into the room, followed by her uncle and two dozen men. All of them were armored except for Lord Silvyn. He was well dressed, in fine robes of deep blue and grey, his sword belted at his side. He was a tall man, though shorter than Lord Tywin, with raven black hair that had gone grey at the temples. Ailyn smiled warmly at him and when he saw her, relief flooded into his own blue eyes. Ser Jaime walked her father up to the bottom of the steps before the throne and announced him to the king.  
King Tommen bobbed his head in recognition of Lord Silvyn’s low bow and Lord Tywin inclined his head as well.  
“Your Grace, my Lord Hand, I thank you for giving me an audience,” began Lord Silvyn respectfully, his eyes remaining on Lord Tywin as he spoke.  
“There was little choice to the contrary, my lord,” remarked the Hand dryly.  
“I humbly ask that you forgive my abrupt arrival, as I come bearing gifts,” replied Lord Silvyn smoothly, standing a little to the side as two of his men brought a wooden chest forward and set it before the throne.  
“These are the taxes Willow Glen owes to the crown one year in advance, paid in full,” explained Lord Silvyn as his men retreated to positions behind their lord.  
From the corner of her eye, Ailyn saw Lord Tywin give the chest a calculating look.  
“My daughter made mention of a slight food shortage in the capitol as well, so I have taken the liberty of filling one of my ships with grain, fruit and animals to be distributed among the people as you dictate,” continued Lord Silvyn, inclining his head to Ailyn as he mentioned her.  
Ailyn glanced up at Lord Tywin with trepidation to catch a mildly annoyed look from his pale eyes but he did not speak to her.  
“Finally, when I leave here, five of my ships will stay behind on loan to the crown for its protection until your own fleet can be rebuilt,” finished Lord Silvyn watching Lord Tywin’s reaction.  
Tywin Lannister’s face betrayed nothing of his feelings about Lord Silvyn’s display of generosity. Instead, he straightened slightly and said, “And in return for these gifts…” letting the sentence trail off into the hall.  
The benevolence left Lord Silvyn’s countenance and, in a hard voice, he demanded, “I would have my daughter back, my lord.”  
Ailyn drew a nervous breath and looked from her father to Lord Tywin, who was clenching his jaw. She wanted to touch his hand and speak to him but she couldn’t do that here, not in front of the entire court.  
“Due to a slight miscommunication, my lord, it appears you are laboring under a misapprehension. Its resolution would best be suited to a private conversation rather than in front of the throne. His Grace will take your gifts under consideration,” announced Lord Tywin with finality.  
“If you will follow me, my lord, we will continue this conversation in my chambers,” said Lord Tywin, looking to the side and holding out his hand for hers. Ailyn glanced up at him, still too afraid to speak, and placed her hand in his. They walked down the steps together, Ailyn smiling all the while at her father, that she was caught slightly off guard when Lord Tywin drew her back around to face the throne again. He made a stately bow to the King, and Ailyn quickly curtseyed, the ridiculousness of the great Tywin Lannister bowing his head to a little boy flashed through her mind as she stood up straight again. Cersei was still glaring angrily down at Ailyn and when Ailyn turned around, she caught the same look of suspicious hatred passing between her uncle and Lord Tywin. Tywin kept hold of her hand as they walked down the aisle followed by several members of the King’s Guard and then her father and his knights.  
As they neared his chamber and hers, Lady Ailyn made herself speak.  
“Lord Tywin, might I speak with my father alone for a few moments?” she asked quietly, looking over at him.  
Lord Tywin met her gaze, his eyes a question.  
“It’s just…I haven’t seen him for several months. Please? I will be brief,” she promised him.  
He paused at the staircase that led up to his chamber and the hallway that led to hers.  
“Very well,” Lord Tywin consented, slowly letting go of her hand and turning back to his guards and Lord Silvyn. The King’s Guard immediately parted and stood off to the sides of the hall so Lord Tywin could see Lord Silvyn a few yards back.  
“Your daughter wishes to speak with you, Lord Silvyn. Ser Jaime will escort you to my chamber when your conversation has concluded,” Lord Tywin said, motioning her father forward.  
“Thank you, my lord,” said Lord Silvyn respectfully as he walked past Lord Tywin to stand with his daughter.  
Lord Tywin nodded and with one last look at Ailyn, started up the steps with his guards in tow. Only Ser Jaime remained behind with as many knights as Lord Silvyn had, and followed them to Ailyn’s room.   
Before they went inside, Lord Silvyn turned to his brother.  
“Keep the peace, Garrick,” requested Lord Silvyn.  
Ser Garrick nodded though his hand stayed on the hilt of his sword as he shot a look at Ser Jaime.  
Lord Silvyn took Ailyn by the arm and led her into the room. Both waited until the doors were closed and then Ailyn threw her arms around her father’s neck and he hugged her fiercely.   
“I missed you so much,” whispered Ailyn into her father’s shoulder.  
“I was so worried, Ailyn. I should never have agreed to let him take you. Please, forgive me,” replied Lord Silvyn quietly, pulling back from her so he could drink in her face.  
“It was the right thing to do at the time. I don’t regret it and neither should you,” insisted Ailyn firmly.  
She looked at him a little sadly and gently touched the large patches of silvery grey hair around his temples.  
“You’ve been worrying too much. I sent ravens as often as I could, informing you that I was well,” said Ailyn, following her father out to the balcony.  
Lord Silvyn whistled loudly and then turned to his daughter.  
“I know the letters were in your hand but how was I to know if the words were truly yours or if you were taking dictation from Tywin Lannister?” asked her father in a pained voice.  
Ailyn smiled sadly and nodded.  
“I see why you would think that but it was not the case, I promise you,” Ailyn assured him.  
Lord Silvyn gave her a searching, paternal look and then held out his arm as a large brown hawk swooped down. He quickly attached a small message to its leg and then sent it off in the direction of his ships.  
“I’m simply sending word to my men that all is well… thus far,” answering Ailyn’s unasked question.  
Lord Silvyn led his daughter back inside, and with a kind smile at Gana and Din, resumed speaking urgently with Ailyn.  
“Has he hurt you?” demanded Lord Silvyn.  
“No father, he hasn’t. Please believe me when I tell you that, while he was not always civil to me, he never behaved dishonorably toward me,” Ailyn informed her parent firmly, deciding not to mention the kiss Lord Tywin had stolen in Harrenhal.  
Lord Silvyn did not look convinced.  
“Ailyn, I heard so many rumors, accounts, that you were sharing his bed…” Lord Silvyn went on, a mixture of fear and pain apparent in his blue eyes.  
Ailyn vehemently shook her head.  
“We shared a tent in the camp, not a room or a bed. In Harrenhal, we shared a suite of rooms, of which I had my own. He never indicated by words or actions that he wanted me in his bed,” Ailyn insisted again.  
“Ailyn, I want you to tell me the truth, even if you think it will hurt me,” said Lord Silvyn, clasping her upper arms and bringing her closer to him.  
“Father, I swear on mother’s life that I am telling you the truth,” repeated Ailyn, trying not to get annoyed at her father’s disbelief.  
Finally, Lord Silvyn seemed to relax a little. He let go of her arms and looked down at the floor for a moment before continuing.  
“So what am I to make of his last raven saying he intends to marry you? What is he holding over you?” asked Lord Silvyn quietly, meeting her eyes again.  
Was Lord Tywin so certain that I would not refuse him? wondered Ailyn silently. How much had her opinion really mattered?  
“Father, please, I know this will be difficult for you to believe but, he is not holding anything over me. He made it clear that he was asking for my hand, not commanding it,” Ailyn explained softly, pleading with her father to believe her.  
“Then he has fooled you. Tywin Lannister doesn’t ask. He may have made it look like you had a choice but you never did. He sent that raven before he even mentioned his intentions, didn’t he?” demanded Lord Silvyn starting to pace around.  
“I wasn’t aware he had sent it or I would have asked him not to until I had written to you. Regardless of how it happened, he did ask me to marry him and I agreed,” said Ailyn firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.  
Lord Silvyn continued to pace around, still thinking.  
“I should go to his chamber soon. He is not a man to be kept waiting,” muttered Lord Silvyn distractedly.  
“Are you displeased with the match?” asked Ailyn cautiously.  
“Displeased? No. My daughter has been asked to be the wife of the Hand of the King. That should be any father’s proudest moment,” said Lord Silvyn, running his hand through his graying hair.  
“Father, I know you never thought Lord Darren was good enough for me. Surely Lord Tywin, despite his faults, is worthy?” reasoned Ailyn.  
“Ailyn, you don’t know half of the things he’s done. I’ve never understood how he has managed to flourish in the south. The man has ice running through his veins instead of blood. And, despite his cold disregard for anyone who doesn’t bear his name, he’s been a widower for a generation and now, after knowing you for less than four months, he wants to marry you?” said Lord Silvyn thinking out loud as he turned to face his daughter.  
Ailyn looked away from her father for a moment.  
“I don’t agree with all the things he’s done but I understand why he did them. He cares fiercely for his family, though sometimes it is hard to see. And as for me, father, you raised me to be smart, levelheaded and resourceful; all traits he admires. Perhaps he simply hasn’t met another woman with all those qualities,” posited Ailyn, not liking how boastful it made her sound.  
Lord Silvyn regarded his daughter thoughtfully.  
Ailyn took a deep breath and tried again.  
“As long as you swear not to repeat this, I think one of the reasons he wishes to marry me is simply because he doesn’t want to be alone any longer,” Ailyn said quietly, with a glance at the doors as if she might be overheard.  
Lord Silvyn glanced out the balcony, a sad look passing over his face.  
“That at least, I can sympathize with,” murmured the widower.  
“Can you promise me that he will never hurt you? I will not abandon you to him if he is going to mistreat you,” asked her concerned father.  
“I already have a promise from him that he will never raise a hand against me or my maids,” answered Ailyn promptly.  
Lord Silvyn looked at Ailyn, a small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth.  
“You are a hawk, my daughter, and you have risen higher than I could have imagined. If it truly is your wish to marry him, I will give you my blessing,” consented Lord Silvyn, looking lovingly at her.  
Ailyn smiled and went to kiss him on the cheek, crushing him in a hug.  
“Will this make you happy?” whispered her father into her hair.  
“Yes, I think it will,” admitted Ailyn nodding into his shoulder.  
“Very well. Then, I will go speak with him,” said Lord Silvyn, stepping back from her. He left the room and her Uncle Garrick came in.  
He grabbed her in an even tighter hug than her father had.  
“Ailyn, what’s this business about then? This lion wants to marry you?” demanded her uncle, looking down intently at her.  
“Yes, he does and I wish to marry him,” replied Ailyn, with an indulgent smile.  
“I can’t say that I’m any too pleased. He is a bit of a scoundrel, Ailyn,” grumbled her uncle.  
“So are you,” retorted Ailyn with a friendly laugh.  
Ser Garrick broke into a wide grin.  
“That I am. I was looking forward to running him through rather than shaking his hand as a brother-in-law,” said her uncle, his hand on his sword hilt again.  
“I promise you, that won’t be necessary, uncle. Please try to be civil with him. For me?” pleaded Ailyn, looking up at her burly warrior of an uncle.  
Ser Garrick sighed.  
“For you, anything, my little niece. But I’m keeping a close eye on him while I’m here,” vowed her uncle firmly.  
“I would expect nothing less,” she said with a smile.  
Ser Garrick nodded and then grinned as a sudden thought occurred to him.  
“Though, I rather like the idea of you taming a lion.”   
Ailyn was about to deny that she had come even remotely close to taming Lord Tywin when her uncle waved her off.  
“If you’ll excuse me, I’d best go keep an eye on those Lannister guards out there,” growled her uncle striding to the door.  
Ailyn fondly shook her head at his retreating figure and then settled in to wait for her father’s return.  
After an hour, she grew a little anxious and started pacing around.  
Then another hour passed. And another. And another.  
“What is going on up there?” Ailyn burst out as Gana brought in some dinner.  
“No idea, my lady. But they are still talking, not fighting, which is good for you,” replied Gana, trying to calm her mistress down.  
Ailyn ate a little, watching the sun dip lower and lower in the sky.  
Finally, when it was nearly dark, there was a knock on her door.  
Ailyn ran to it herself and pulled it open.  
Her father was standing there with her uncle and a few guards.  
“Well?” she asked as her father came in.  
“You were right Ailyn, he is impressed with you. We have a few more details to discuss but your engagement is now official. Congratulations, my dear,” Lord Silvyn told her affectionately, hugging her close again.  
“Thank you! But what were you talking about for so long?” Ailyn couldn’t resist asking as she let go of her father.  
“We can discuss it tomorrow. Lord Tywin wishes to see you and I am going with your uncle to find some comfortable rooms and several large flagons of wine,” muttered her father, rubbing his eyes tiredly.  
Ailyn frowned at him in confusion. Her father was not prone to drink.  
“Why?” she wondered.  
Lord Silvyn looked at his daughter in surprise.  
“Ailyn, if Tywin Lannister is to be my son-in-law, I’m going to need a drink,” replied Lord Silvyn.  
Ailyn laughed and then her father kissed her lightly on both cheeks and nudged her out the door. She watched as her father and uncle headed off with their men, talking between themselves. Lady Ailyn turned and flew up the steps to the Hand’s chamber where the guard announced her.  
Lord Tywin was standing in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind his back, looking pleased. Ailyn ran to him happily and just as the door closed, she threw her arms around him. Lord Tywin did not react immediately, her sudden fervor catching him off guard but soon, he curled his own arms around her and held her against him.  
“It’s real now,” she breathed into his chest and then pulled back a little to look up at her lion.  
Lord Tywin, gave her his usual half smile, and laid a hand gently against her cheek.  
“You are mine.”  
Ailyn smiled against his hand and responded playfully, “I seem to recall already having a conversation with you about ownership, my lord.”  
The half smile faded from his face as his eyes flitted over her features, suddenly serious and a little nervous.  
“But you are mine,” reasserted Lord Tywin holding her closer.  
He took his hand from her face as she reached up to him. She liked the way his sharp eyes went a little hazy when she cupped his cheek.  
“Yes, my lord; I am your lady,” Ailyn assured him, gently brushing her thumb over his cheek bone.  
Lord Tywin clutched her tightly and kissed her until she pleaded breathlessly for air. When he reluctantly let her leave for the evening, Ailyn walked lightly back to her room, happier than she had felt in several years.


	27. In Preparation

The next few days went more smoothly than Ailyn anticipated. She divided her time between her father, uncle and Lord Tywin. Lord Silvyn and the Hand had even dined together one night, which still caused Ailyn no end of worry but afterwards, their outward relationship seemed strengthened rather than the opposite. Even her uncle had managed not to kill anyone at court, though there had been a mild brawl with one of the captains of the City Watch which ended with a broken nose and a black eye. Though rather than going for swords, the soldiers had laughed in good humor and drank away their differences for the rest of the night.  
Lord Silvyn left at the end of the week, promising to return with Mardyn for the wedding and several trunks of Ailyn’s things now that her home was to be permanently in King’s Landing. He left behind five ships, as he had promised, which guarded the harbor to King’s Landing.  
One morning, about two weeks out from the wedding, Ailyn went to visit Lord Tywin before he left to spend the day at his desk in the Hand’s office.  
“You seem troubled this morning, my lord. Have you met with your Small Council already today?” asked Ailyn, noticing the circles under Lord Tywin’s pale eyes.  
“Lady Sansa, her maid and Tyrion are still missing,” muttered Lord Tywin looking away from her.  
“You think they left together?” Ailyn inquired carefully, not wanting to anger him.  
“I don’t know what to think. The Stark girl and her maid went missing after Joffrey’s wedding. Tyrion was here for another week before he managed to escape. No I do not think they are together. The city is being searched as well as all ships leaving from the harbor,” explained the Hand of the King, sounding annoyed.  
Ailyn thought it wise not to pursue this conversation further.  
“I never asked you what you and my father were discussing for so long the day he arrived here,” Ailyn said, taking the proffered cup of wine from Lord Tywin.  
“He wished to cross examine me after his conversation with you about things that had happened while you were under my protection. Apparently, he was satisfied with the answers I gave him,” replied Lord Tywin taking a drink from his own cup.  
“Meaning we both told him the same lies,” interpreted Ailyn with a small smile.  
Lord Tywin nodded slightly.  
“We also discussed your dowry,” began Lord Tywin but Lady Ailyn frowned and held up her hand to stop him.  
“Please, I’d rather not hear about that,” she said in a pained voice, setting down her cup of wine and moving away from him.  
Lord Tywin frowned in confusion. Most women were proud of their dowries; Ailyn’s reaction didn’t make sense to him. He set his own cup down and went to stand behind her.  
“Lord Silvyn was generous, Ailyn…” he tried again but she turned on him and stopped him with an angry look.  
“I’ve always despised the custom of giving dowries. For those less well off than we are, I understand its necessity to join farmlands or to combine a larger stock of cattle in order to help make a start in life. I can appreciate that. But for wealthy families, it’s different; most marriages are arranged because they please the parents politically or gain some advantage over another rival family,” vented Ailyn, flushing slightly as she spoke.  
Lord Tywin listened intently, and did not try to speak when she paused.  
“I was twenty before I wed Lord Darren; practically a spinster in the eyes of Westeros. But he was the only suitor who came to my father and asked only for my hand, nothing else. He didn’t want anything except me,” finished Ailyn in a strained voice, trying not to let her emotions overpower her.  
She looked up at Lord Tywin.  
“I do not expect that of you. You have an obligation to the crown to make every alliance count and I do not blame you or think ill of you for doing what thousands of men before you have done. But I’d rather not hear how many pieces of gold I’m worth to you,” Ailyn trailed off into a whisper.  
Lord Tywin’s jaw worked for a moment before he turned away from her. He stalked back to his desk and bent over it, bracing his hands on the edge.  
The silent waves of anger emanating from his tense figure were starting to worry her.  
“I don’t think anyone in the Seven Kingdoms would accuse me of being warm hearted or soft but nor am I as cold as you think me. I don’t need anything from Lord Silvyn that I could not get a thousand other ways without marrying you. For both our sakes, I suggest we not start down the road of comparisons with our first marriages,” Lord Tywin ground out.   
He straightened and fixed her with a look he hadn’t used in a long time.  
“To many, my marrying you is considered ill advised but I am going through with it for many reasons; one of which is because I cannot bear the idea of anyone else having you. Were I at liberty to make a grand gesture as Lord Darren did, I would; but my position and responsibilities will not allow it. You say you understand this but I don’t fully believe that in light of your accusation,” said the Lord of Casterly Rock.  
He turned to his desk again and snatched up a thick, leather bound folder full of papers.  
“Now if you’ll excuse me, my lady, I have another four meetings to attend,” announced Lord Tywin striding to the door without looking back at her. He didn’t slam it when he left, but she winced all the same.  
Lady Ailyn stood rooted to the floor, his words ringing in her ears.  
Your bull headedness will be your undoing one of these days, she snapped at herself. In his eyes, he was trying to give you a compliment.  
Ailyn wasn’t sure how long she stood there feeling guilty, staring unseeingly at the floor.  
Suddenly, another pair of boots appeared in her field of vision and she snapped her head up to see the concerned face of Ser Kevan.  
“My lady, what is it?” he asked with genuine interest.  
“Ser Kevan, I’m sorry. Lord Tywin isn’t here. I’m sure you came to see him,” Ailyn said trying to side step around the Lannister knight but he put a gentle hand on her arm to stop her.  
“I was on my way to see him but it can wait. What has happened?”  
Ailyn drew in a breath and then asked Ser Kevan if Lord Tywin had told him what her dowry was.  
Ser Kevan looked surprised.  
“He hasn’t told you? I know he was looking forward to it because he knew it would please you,” replied Ser Kevan.  
Ailyn shook her head.  
“I’m sure he thought it would please me but I asked him not to tell me,” Ailyn answered unhappily.  
“You should let him tell you,” persisted Ser Kevan worriedly as she tried to pull away from him.  
Ailyn stubbornly shook her head again and moved past Ser Kevan to the door.  
“Ailyn, he only asked your father for another ship of food for King’s Landing, nothing else,” Ser Kevan blurted out as she was nearly at the door.  
Ailyn froze, her stomach turning over.  
She looked over her shoulder at Ser Kevan.  
“He did what?” she gasped, feeling worse.  
“Lord Silvyn apparently offered him enough to straighten many of the crown’s finances but Tywin refused him. The Tyrrells have been generous enough that Lord Tywin waived your father’s offer in favor of something that the crown still needed but he thought would mean more to you,” explained Ser Kevan coming to stand in front of her.  
“That’s why he was so angry with me,” whispered Ailyn to herself.  
“Come, you should see him and fix this misunderstanding. You may have to wait until after the first meeting but it’s important for both of you that this is resolved,” said Ser Kevan in a determined voice, taking Ailyn’s hand and putting it firmly on his arm.  
Ailyn walked dejectedly beside him and sat down on a bench to wait outside the Hand’s office while Lord Tywin’s first meeting was proceeding.  
I must remember how to be a wife again, Ailyn realized as she stared at the floor. The Hand’s guards looked at her curiously but she did not meet their eyes.  
An hour later, several well perfumed merchants exited the Hand’s office and Ser Kevan motioned her inside as he was leaving. Ailyn determinedly got to her feet and walked in, the guards closing the door behind her. Lord Tywin was seated at the head of a long table, surrounded by papers. He looked up when she came in and his eyes darkened.  
“Lady Ailyn I don’t have time…” began Lord Tywin rising, but Ailyn went to him and before he could react, she cupped his face in her hands and pulled him down for a kiss. She felt him freeze and then his hands hesitantly descended on her arms. After a long moment, he pushed her back, breaking the kiss so he could speak to her.  
“Shhh. I’m sorry. I can’t see past my own stubbornness sometimes. Ser Kevan told me what you asked my father for and I am more pleased with that than if you had asked for nothing,” said Ailyn quietly, not letting go of him.  
“You are?” asked Lord Tywin, his stormy countenance clearing a little.  
Ailyn nodded.  
“Out of all the women in Westeros, you chose to honor me with a proposal. I will try to be more worthy of your trust and affections,” promised Ailyn softly but firmly, not looking away from his gaze.  
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think you already worthy,” replied Lord Tywin, letting his hands slip to her waist.  
Ailyn smiled warmly at him.  
“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. You have important business to attend to now,” said Ailyn, letting go of him and trying to turn around but he held onto her waist.  
“Stay,” he asked.  
“And sit in on your meetings? No, my lord, my place is not here,” said Ailyn firmly, placing her hands over his and trying to move his hands.  
Reluctantly, Lord Tywin let her remove his hands and let them fall back to his sides.  
“I’d rather be in your company than these merchants’ any day,” muttered Lord Tywin, glancing with distaste at the table.  
“Even when I’m annoying you?” asked Ailyn playfully.  
Lord Tywin nodded and watched her walk to the door.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Tywin,” she said smiling back at him, and slipped out before he could reply.

 

“I think this will suit me,” said Lady Ailyn the next day, turning slowly around in front of a full length mirror to admire her dress.  
The deep green brought out a new shade of grey in her eyes and the brown of her hair, although the cut of the neckline was a little lower than she was used to.  
“It complements you well, my lady,” agreed Gana.  
“Thank you, Gana.”  
Lady Ailyn left her chambers and the office of the Hand of the King.   
As she approached his room, Ailyn saw Ser Jaime standing outside of it speaking to a very tall woman in what looked like a man’s armor. Ser Jaime was speaking quietly to her and she looked mildly annoyed but somehow in an affectionate way. He stopped when Ailyn drew closer and they both turned to look at her.  
“Good morning, Ser Jaime,” said Ailyn politely and smiled at the tall woman.  
“Ah Lady Ailyn, this is Lady Brienne of Tarth. Lady Brienne this is my father’s conquest and soon to be wife, Lady Ailyn of Greystone,” said Ser Jaime in a mock serious voice.  
Ailyn chose to ignore his jibe and instead extended her hand to Lady Brienne.  
“Lady Brienne,” said Ailyn politely with a smile, shaking Brienne’s hand.  
“Lady Ailyn,” returned Brienne, bowing slightly as well as shaking her hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some things to attend to.”  
“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” offered Ailyn quickly, glancing between them.  
“It’s quite alright, my lady. I’ve heard enough out of him for one day,” replied Brienne, giving him a look which Ser Jaime returned with wide, innocent eyes.  
Ailyn chuckled and nodded to the lady knight as she left. Lady Ailyn glanced at Ser Jaime as Brienne was leaving. He looked…sad.  
“You like her?” asked Ailyn gently.  
Ser Jaime’s face immediately went blank before he looked at Ailyn.  
“Her?” Ser Jaime asked incredulously, jerking a thumb in Brienne’s direction.  
Ailyn nodded, still smiling at Ser Jaime.  
The smiling knight snorted.  
“She’s probably the only woman who could beat you in a fair fight,” suggested Ailyn in good humor.  
Ser Jaime smiled to himself.  
“She already has,” he murmured.  
Ailyn looked at him for a moment.  
“You should tell her how you feel.”  
The lion in front of her laughed.  
“It isn’t that easy,” he replied, ruefully.  
“Why isn’t it?” persisted Ailyn.  
Ser Jaime finally gave her a serious look.  
“You are marrying the reason, my lady. Excuse me,” said Ser Jaime, opening the door behind him and walking in to announce her.  
Lord Tywin was seated as his desk, listening to Lord Varys and Lord Baelish who flanked him. He didn’t seem pleased. They stopped speaking when Ser Jaime entered and Lord Tywin dismissed them all with a casual flick of the hand. With courteous bows, both men shuffled out as Ser Jaime drawled her name to Lord Tywin. She heard him bid her come in and then said something in a lower voice to his son which Ailyn couldn’t hear. She walked in as the Lord Commanded was leaving; he didn’t look at her.  
“My lady,” said Lord Tywin, greeting her.  
He was dressed all in black which made him look even more grim than usual.  
“Good morning, my lord. I apologize for interrupting,” began Lady Ailyn, glancing at the floor.  
“I am pleased you did. Another five minutes of listening to those two squabble and I would have hanged them both,” muttered Lord Tywin, running his fingers through his hair absently.  
Ailyn smiled.  
“You need them, Tywin. As much as they bother you, they are important men in their own right,” said Ailyn quietly, coming to stand near Lord Tywin.  
He nodded ruefully and then focused on her curiously.  
“What is the reason for your visit, Ailyn?” he asked, not unkindly.  
Ailyn smiled mischievously.  
“I come bearing a message for you,” she replied.  
“Oh? From whom?” asked the Lord of Casterly Rock.  
“Someone very important to you,” she deflected, still smiling. She continued on as Lord Tywin’s brow began to crease.  
“Unfortunately, they wrote the message on a small bit of paper and I’m afraid I’ve misplaced it somewhere on my person. I was rather hoping you could help me find it,” she suggested, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.  
Lord Tywin seemed puzzled. His green eyes slid over her and then met her gaze again, trying to fathom what she wanted.  
“What…?” uttered the lion, confused.  
Ailyn’s smile grew wider as she looked off to the side and then down at his black leather boots.  
“I believe it’s called flirting, my lord,” she tried again watching his face.  
As comprehension and a hint of fear passed over his face, she realized that instead of enjoying himself with her, he might be pained by the memory of the last woman who had flirted with him. Ailyn held out her right hand to him and waited, her smile slipping a little. Lord Tywin didn’t move and was still giving her a searching look.   
Perhaps this was a not a good idea. Lions don’t play games.  
But, when Ailyn started to lower her hand and looked down at the floor in embarrassment, Lord Tywin came forward and clasped her hand, his look softening a little.  
“A small bit of paper, you say?” he asked quietly, realizing that she was encouraging him to touch her, to try to make up for their argument the preceding day.   
Ailyn nodded, encouraged by the gentler look in his face.  
Lord Tywin moved closer still and wrapped his hands around her waist. He moved them around her hips until his hands met behind her back and then they moved a short way down the side of her legs, the fabric shifting under his hands.  
“No pockets?” inquired the lion softly.  
Ailyn shook her head, smiling again.  
Lord Tywin took her hand and held it up close to his chest. The loose sleeve of her gown slipped down a little and with only the finger tips of his other hand, Lord Tywin slowly traced down the inside of her forearm, over her elbow and then halfway up her upper arm before stopping. The slight arch of his golden eyebrows asked his question silently.  
Ailyn shook her head again, as her heart started beating against her ribs.  
He lowered her arm and dropped her hand, taking up the other and repeating his gentle exploration of her other arm.   
She shook her head again when he paused.  
Lord Tywin made a thoughtful noise in his throat and reached up to gently feel behind her ears. Ailyn tensed her shoulders and squirmed out of his reach, his fingertips tickling her. Lord Tywin’s mouth quirked up in one corner, as he held his hands away from her.   
“Is it in your hair?” he asked curiously, looking at her coiled tresses.  
“No,” replied Ailyn, her cheeks starting to hurt from smiling too wide for too long.  
Lord Tywin rested his hands on either side of her neck for a moment and then suddenly slid them back over her shoulders and down just below the line of her dress so the ends of his fingers rested on the skin between her shoulder blades, his thumbs on the base of her neck.  
Ailyn gasped in surprise, her grey eyes going wide.  
Lord Tywin met her eyes and asked quietly, “Do you trust me?”  
Her hesitation was brief before she nodded.  
Ailyn composed herself but her head slipped to the side and her eyes fluttered as she felt his hands slowly pass over her shoulder blades, his thumbs slipping down to trace her collarbones. Her breathing became erratic as he cupped her shoulders and then removed his hands from within the edge of her dress. Instead, he moved the side of his thumbs along the neckline of the front of her dress with his fingers splayed out so nothing was touching her except his thumbs. Lord Tywin followed the edge of her dress across her front, his thumbs whispering slowly over the exposed skin of her chest. Ailyn’s breathing became shallow and her cheeks flushed as he touched her.  
“I presume I’m not allowed to strip you down to your small clothes in search of this message,” growled Lord Tywin close to her ear.  
“No,” she breathed, forcing her eyes open again to look at him. His hands went to her waist with his head bowed over her, his sharp eyes lingering on her cleavage.   
Abruptly, his hands went back to her waist and he started to walk her backwards. She moved with him until the table nudged the back of her legs. Ailyn saw him tense up as he prepared to lift her.  
“No don’t. I don’t want you to open your wound again,” she said quietly, grasping his wrists to stop him.  
Before he could protest, Ailyn picked up the back of her dress and maneuvered herself up onto the edge of the table. She wiggled her toes until her soft slippers fell to the stone floor.   
Lord Tywin held his hand out, palm upward and waited.  
Ailyn smiled and raised her right leg up to place her heel in his hand. He cupped her heel in his hand almost without looking at it as she drew her dress up to just below her knees.  
Ailyn parted her legs slightly to make herself more comfortable, keeping the long layers of her dress modestly between him and her.  
Very slowly, Lord Tywin clasped her ankle with his other hand and gently slid it up the back of her leg. He paused at the soft plateau of her calf and then continued up to her knee. The lion of Casterly Rock had fixed his gaze on her leg but now at her knee, his eyes flicked up to read hers. She looked up at him with heavy lidded eyes, giving him her tacit permission to continue. He moved his hand around her knee to rest atop it and then advanced, even more slowly than before, over the top of her leg. Midway up her thigh, his fingertips encountered a band of ribbon wrapped around her leg. Lord Tywin hesitated and glanced down, even though what he was touching was hidden from view. Ailyn smiled encouragingly up at him. Very carefully, the lion found and removed a square of parchment from beneath the ribbon and then removed his hand from the warmth of her leg.  
“Well done, my lord,” she breathed, still smiling at him, her cheeks still flushed.  
Tywin gave her an appraising look and then he unfolded the square of paper.  
“‘You are having dinner with me tonight,’” he read aloud.  
Ailyn slipped down off the table and back into her shoes.  
“Yes, you are,” she confirmed, beaming at him. “Serena has finished my dress and I’d like to show it to you.”  
“She will call on you again in a few days. You should have several more dresses made which you are not allowed to pay for,” replied Lord Tywin giving her a look.  
“As you wish,” acknowledged Ailyn, with a mock meek bow.  
“And…”  
Lord Tywin paused and Ailyn looked up at him, waiting patiently for him to continue.  
“At least one will be Lannister colors.”  
It was somewhere between a request and an order.  
Ailyn let out a breath and then smiled affectionately at him.  
“It would be an honor to wear your colors, Tywin,” replied Lady Ailyn softly.  
Lord Tywin’s smile didn’t appear at the corner of his mouth but he looked very pleased all the same.

 

Author’s note: For anyone who is curious, Ailyn is now in her late twenties. On Tywin and Ailyn’s relationship: it’s not going to immediately be perfect nor will they be instantly, deeply in love since, for both their characters, I can’t see that realistically happening. They are still getting used to one another and the idea of sharing a life.   
Sansa will not be reappearing in this story. For her sake, I would like to think Baelish, as a last favor to Catelyn’s memory, helped Sansa escape, without going with her, and arranged a decent marriage for her (with someone she falls in love with). Brienne will be in King’s Landing for a while longer for a good reason.


	28. Pins and Problems

“Hold still, dear,” requested Serena Farus, pulling some fabric more tightly around Lady Ailyn and pinning it in place.  
Ailyn tried not to move and bit back the tired sigh that tried to escape her lips. She’d been standing on this pedestal for several hours now, trying not to move except when Serena or one of her assistants moved Ailyn’s arms up or down. Some of the girls were not being very careful where they stuck the pins either.  
Gana mercifully came to her rescue just as Ailyn was about to ask for a reprieve.  
“Lord Tywin is here to see you, my lady,” said Gana softly, glancing behind her toward the doors.  
“Thank you, Gana. Excuse me for a moment, please,” said Lady Ailyn firmly, stepping down off the pedestal. Two girls quickly unwrapped the fabric from Ailyn leaving her only in a thin, white under dress.   
“My lady, you can’t go out there like that!” gasped Gana, scandalized as Ailyn started to walk toward the opening in the curtain.  
Ailyn stopped, glanced down at herself and then motioned for her robe. While she was slipping into it, she asked one of the assistants for several squares of fabric so she could ask Lord Tywin’s opinion on them.  
She stepped out from between the curtains of the makeshift tent that had been created in the middle of her room, as a dressing area for Ailyn while her measurements were being taken for her new dresses. Lord Tywin was standing near the door, studying the tent with a slightly bemused expression.  
“Good morning, my lord,” said Ailyn with a warm smile as she came to stand near him.  
“My lady. I don’t recall dress making being quite this complicated,” replied Tywin, eyeing the curtains and the young women flitting in and out of them with fabrics and ribbons.  
“You demanded a large order, Tywin. The wedding gown alone has taken the better part of the morning,” sighed Ailyn, stretching her back a little.  
“May I see the plans for it?” asked Tywin looking at her.  
Ailyn shook her head, a playful smile on her lips.  
“It’s a surprise. You will not be disappointed,” she assured him when he frowned at her refusal.  
He seemed about to protest so Ailyn brought out the squares of fabric to distract him.  
“Which of these do you prefer? I can’t decide which I like better,” said Ailyn holding out a bright red with a golden pattern woven in and two separate squares of a deep crimson and shimmering gold.  
Tywin’s eyes flashed between the two patterns and then he pointed at the two separate, solid squares of color.  
“Those,” said Lord Tywin decisively.  
Ailyn nodded and replaced them in her pockets.  
“Are you busy today?” she asked.  
Tywin nodded, suddenly looking a little tired.  
“All day. I don’t know if I will be able to see you again until late,” muttered Tywin searching her face.  
“It’s alright. I know you will always have much to do and no one can do it better,” Ailyn answered supportively.  
Tywin looked pleased with her and then became apprehensive as an uncertain look passed over Ailyn’s face.  
“I have a request to make about the wedding,” she began, glancing up at him.  
“Name it,” replied Lord Tywin quickly.  
“It’s just that…unless it is your particular wish, I’d rather not have a bedding ceremony,” Ailyn said quietly, looking up at him almost shyly.  
A dark look passed over Lord Tywin’s countenance.  
“I was not intending to allow it,” said the Hand of the King firmly.  
Ailyn breathed a soft sigh of relief.  
“Thank you. I’ve never agreed with that tradition. I think you should be the only one to see me naked,” flirted Ailyn.  
Lord Tywin’s green eyes flicked over her robe and he took a small step closer to her. He put his hands on her hips in a possessive way she liked, moving his head close to hers and resting his temple against the side of her head.  
“We are not alone,” breathed Ailyn, her eyes sliding partially closed.  
Lord Tywin made a soft growling noise in his throat and pulled her waist against him, kissing her fiercely but briefly.  
She barely had time to react before he held her away from him and released her hips.  
“You have meetings,” Ailyn reminded him a little breathlessly, smiling at him.  
“And you have more dresses to design,” he answered, looking at her with something like fondness.  
“Try to be civil with them,” suggested Ailyn, grinning at him.  
“Until tomorrow then, my lady,” Lord Tywin replied, bowing low to her.  
She curtseyed and watched him leave. Then, Ailyn turned and resolutely walked back into the tent for several more hours of standing and being poked.

Later that day, Ailyn was taking a stroll alone in the gardens when an unwelcome visitor stopped her.  
“Your Grace,” said Ailyn respectfully, curtseying low to the Queen.  
“You look very pleased with yourself,” observed the Queen coldly.  
“I am merely enjoying the day, Your Grace,” replied Ailyn carefully. She had not seen Cersei since Lord Tywin had announced their engagement and now she looked like she was spoiling for a fight.  
“You’re a fool if you think he loves you,” snapped Cersei, eyeing her with disdain.  
“I never asked him to love me,” answered Ailyn quietly, not wishing to provoke her.  
“You’ll be important to him until you’ve served your purpose; whatever that might be since you cannot bear children. Then, he’ll ignore you,” said Lord Tywin’s daughter, in a way that suggested she had personal experience of his disinterestedness.   
It pained Ailyn to think Lord Tywin never paid attention to Cersei unless it was to reprimand her for something but he had forbidden her to speak to him on the subject of his children.  
“You will always be important to him, Your Grace. You are his only daughter and he does love you, despite what you may think,” insisted Ailyn kindly.  
The Queen merely shook her long golden hair at Ailyn with a look that stressed how little she thought of Ailyn’s opinions.  
“I cannot wait to see your disappointment on the day he does cast you aside,” said Cersei maliciously and then swept off before Ailyn could say anything in reply.  
Lady Ailyn watched the hurt Queen stalk away. Ailyn’s mind was swirling with questions and rebelling at the idea that Lord Tywin would one day not care for her anymore. But if he could treat his own daughter that way, perhaps the Queen knew him better than Ailyn thought she did.   
Ailyn shook her head in annoyance, trying to clear away her doubts. She walked quickly in the direction Cersei had gone, determined to have another conversation with her. If they were going to be family, both women were going to have to learn to coexist somehow.  
Ailyn went down the hallway and turned a few corners into a long corridor. She stopped in her tracks as she saw Ser Jaime walking beside Lady Brienne. They were moving in the opposite direction of Ailyn and didn’t hear her behind them. Ailyn moved back against the wall so she would not be seen and watched them. They appeared to be bickering but in good humor and despite the mild annoyance on Brienne’s face, both seemed happy as they walked in stride together down the hall. Ailyn started thinking about what Ser Jaime had said about the difficulty in liking whom he chose when Cersei flew out of a side corridor directly in their path. She couldn’t hear the ensuing conversation but the Queen looked livid and soon Lady Brienne bowed stiffly to her and left leaving Ser Jaime looking angrily back at his sister. He grabbed her arm and pushed her into the wall behind him which caused her guards to advance on him with their hands on their swords. They backed off a little and whatever Ser Jaime said to them and with one last look at his sister, he stomped off down the hall without looking back. The Queen watched him going until he was lost from sight, her head tilted at a disappointed angle.  
Lady Ailyn turned away and went quickly back to her room, not wishing to run into the Queen again after the altercation with her brother.  
“Gana, I have an idea,” said Ailyn as she closed the door to her room. Serena and her flock of assistants had left for the day to begin working on her new dresses.  
“What is it, my lady?” asked Gana, coming over to her mistress.  
“Things will be much easier on everyone in the Lannister family if Cersei had something to occupy her mind other than her replacement as Queen Regent, the loss of her son, father and soon her brother,” said Ailyn thinking aloud and walking over to her desk.  
“That still doesn’t excuse her behavior to you,” insisted Gana with a frown. She didn’t like the Queen anymore than Ailyn did.  
“No but I can sympathize a little with what she must be going through,” replied Ailyn, taking out a sheet of parchment and inking a quill.  
“So how are you going to make her leave you alone?” asked Gana curiously.  
“My father will back very soon and I think between the two of us, we should be able to convince Prince Khersian to attend the wedding,” said Ailyn, tapping the quill against her lips as she thought about how to word the message.  
“Prince Khersian ofLys?” asked Gana, trying to trace where Ailyn was going with this idea.  
“Yes. He’s wealthy, powerful, unmarried and has a decided soft spot for blonde women. I simply think he and the Queen Regent should meet,” decided Ailyn, putting quill to parchment.  
“It’s not like you to play matchmaker with anyone, my lady,” queried Gana, looking at her mistress.  
“I know. I usually detest the very idea but that woman is making me desperate. Every time I see her, I don’t want to hear how Lord Tywin will never love me as much as his first wife,” said Ailyn quietly, focusing intently on what she was writing.  
“Has he told you he loves you?” asked Gana softly.  
Ailyn paused in her writing and then slowly replaced the quill, her hands falling into her lap.  
“No. He needs me and wants me. I have those sentiments from his own lips but he has never mentioned love. I don’t know if he’s capable of that emotion anymore,” admitted Ailyn, looking down at her hands.  
She looked up at Gana before she could speak.  
“I don’t blame him. What happened between us was sudden and very unexpected. He’s been alone with his grief for so long that…love may be something that happens later,” reasoned Ailyn.  
“And you, my lady?” asked Gana gently.  
Ailyn looked out the window at the blue sky and listened to some noisy birds that were flitting around by her balcony.  
“I remember the overwhelming feeling of love I had for Darren; the desire to always be with him, to take of care him and be safe in the knowledge that I meant everything to him. I don’t feel that when I look at Lord Tywin. It’s true that I care for him very much and I…desire him but I feel I know so little of him sometimes that it stops me. I’ve seen something of his ruthlessness so no matter how close we become, I feel I will always have to be a little careful in how I act and speak around him. His unswerving devotion to his family is… daunting,” finished Ailyn.  
“But you will be his family soon,” Gana reminded her, clasping Ailyn’s shoulder.  
Ailyn glanced up at Gana and smiled at the realization.  
“And may the Seven preserve me if I ever fail to live up to his expectations as I take on his name,” said Ailyn, looking out onto her balcony thoughtfully.


	29. Before the Wedding

“Do you see them yet Gana?” asked Ailyn while Din finished adjusting her hair.  
“No, my lady, I don’t think Lord Silvyn has made it to the harbor yet,” replied her maid who was standing on the balcony and leaning over it to see out across the bay.  
“They should be here today,” insisted Ailyn, rising and thanking Din for her help.  
She quickly walked out onto the balcony with Gana and together they watched for the return of Ailyn’s father.  
“The wedding is getting closer,” murmured Gana, looking sideways at Ailyn after a time.  
“I know. Some days I’m excited and others, I’m a little afraid. But I made my choice and I will stand by it,” said Ailyn crossing her arms over her chest.  
“There!” exclaimed Gana, pointing at a large ship that had just rounded the break waters before coming into the bay.  
They both watched it impatiently until it was lost from view.  
“Are you going down to meet them?” asked Gana.  
“No, Lord Tywin said he would bring my father and Mardyn up to me when they arrived.  
Ailyn paced around her room for what seemed like several hours until at last there was a knock on her door.  
Gana hurried to answer it and then pulled the door wide to let in Lord Tywin, Lord Silvyn and Ailyn’s little brother, Mardyn.  
Ailyn smiled happily at Lord Tywin and her father as she walked up to them.  
“Good morning, Lord Tywin. Father,” she said.  
Mardyn appeared from behind their father’s long cloak at the sound of her voice.  
“Ailyn?” he asked quietly.  
“Mardyn!” she breathed.  
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ailyn knew she shouldn’t make a scene but that didn’t stop her from dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around her little brother who ran to her just as eagerly.  
“I missed you so much,” whispered Ailyn, blinking some tears from her eyes as she buried her face in his brown curls.  
“I missed you too,” said Mardyn, hugging his big sister fiercely.  
Ailyn remembered her manners and forced herself to let go of Mardyn and quickly wiped her eyes as she stood up again.  
“You were in a camp with soldiers. Did you get to see them fight?” asked Mardyn excitedly still holding onto his sister’s hand.  
“Shhh. I’ll tell you all about it later,” urged Ailyn, pressing his hand and looking at her father and Lord Tywin.  
Lord Silvyn was smiling lovingly at his children while Lord Tywin alternated his attention between Ailyn and Mardyn without betraying anything of what he was thinking.  
Lord Tywin cleared his throat.  
“Lord Silvyn and I are going to draw up the marriage contract you are insisting on. Will you be free this afternoon to look it over?” asked Lord Tywin glancing from her to her brother.  
Ailyn nodded.  
“Send for me when you are ready. I’ll be here,” Ailyn promised him.   
“Mardyn can stay with you. I’m sure that’s all he wants right now,” said Lord Silvyn looking down at his son who was still looking up at his sister.  
“I’ll see you this afternoon then,” Ailyn assured her father, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek.  
She let go of Mardyn’s hand and the boy composed himself enough to say good bye to his father. Ailyn curtseyed with a smile to Lord Tywin and then to her surprise, Mardyn bowed to him and said very carefully, “My Lord.”  
The corner of Tywin’s mouth tugged up a little and he inclined his head to return the gesture to Ailyn’s brother. He glanced over at Ailyn as he straightened to see her beaming at him.  
“Until this afternoon then,” concluded Lord Tywin turning to leave.  
Her father and Lord Tywin were almost out of the room when Mardyn turned to Ailyn and asked in a not so quiet voice, “Are you going to marry that tall man?”  
Ailyn grinned and caught Lord Tywin’s eye as he glanced back.  
“Yes, I am,” she said to her brother and then winked at Lord Tywin.  
Her future husband seemed very pleased with that response.

 

Sometime later, after Ailyn had told Mardyn nearly everything she felt she could tell him about living with Lord Tywin’s soldiers for a month, the summons came for her to join her father and Lord Tywin.  
“Will you read to me tonight?” asked Mardyn, his blue eyes going big with concern.  
“No, you are going to read to me,” corrected Ailyn, bending down and kissing the top of his head.  
“Father says I’ve gotten better since you left,” Mardyn informed her proudly.  
“I’m sure you have. You can prove it to me tonight. Gana will take you to your room and I’ll be by later,” promised Ailyn looking at Gana who walked over to take Mardyn’s hand.  
She walked out of her room with them and then bid them good bye as she turned the opposite way to go to the Hand’s office.  
She found Lord Tywin and her father bent over a large sheet of paper while Lord Baelish sat between them, writing as quickly as he could. Lord Varys was also present, she presumed as a witness. He bowed low to her when she entered and she nodded to him.  
“Ah Ailyn, good; we are nearly finished,” said her father, straightening up as she came over to them.  
“Add ‘for my lifetime’ here,” instructed Lord Tywin, pointing to a line low on the page. Ailyn saw Lord Baelish bite back a sigh and did what the Hand of the King bid him.  
“Copies will be made for the offices here at the capitol and sent out to Casterly Rock and Willow Glen. They will be available to the public should anyone desire to see them so long as that is your wish,” said Lord Silvyn looking at his daughter.  
“Yes. I want everything to be as straightforward as possible,” Ailyn agreed, glancing at Lord Tywin who was still looking over Lord Baelish’s shoulder as he wrote.  
“I believe that is everything then, my lords and lady,” announced Lord Baelish, putting down his quill and flexing his fingers after several more minutes. He stood up and offered his chair to Lady Ailyn who sat down and pulled the parchment toward her.  
She felt her father and Lord Tywin come to stand behind her, reading over the document as she did.  
Ailyn would have access to all the wealth of Casterly Rock while Lord Tywin was alive and upon his death, she would be given an annuity to live on and be free to spend her remaining days wherever she chose. There was no written mention of what would happen if a child resulted from their union but Ailyn had a fairly good idea of what Tywin wanted and what she wanted should that eventuality come to pass. They would have that fight if need be. Lord Tywin was still not concerned about Ser Jaime eventually inheriting Casterly Rock although she doubted whether Ser Jaime knew anything of this. That was another conversation she was not looking forward to.  
The rest of the document dissolved into a complicated discussion of finances and a division of assets should Ailyn predecease her husband.  
“I am ready to sign this if you have nothing left to add,” offered Ailyn, glancing up at Lord Tywin.  
“Very well, you may sign it,” replied Lord Tywin, handing her an inked quill.  
Ailyn signed her name and then handed it to Lord Tywin as she stood up. He moved forward and signed it as well, handing the quill off to her father. Ailyn stood near Lord Tywin as her father signed the document, her fingers brushed against Lord Tywin’s. Then, Lord Varys and Lord Baelish signed in turn.  
“Thank you, you may go,” Lord Tywin dismissed them when they were finished.   
“I don’t know if you’ve finalized the guest list yet but I think you should add these names,” suggested Lord Silvyn pulled a small sheet of parchment from an inner pocket of his grey tunic.  
“I think we were going to work on it this afternoon,” said Ailyn hesitantly, looking at Lord Tywin for confirmation.  
Lord Tywin nodded in agreement and took the paper from Lord Silvyn before Ailyn could reach for it. He frowned as his green eyes flitted down the page.  
“Who are these people?” he demanded, looking up at Lord Silvyn.  
“It is true we are a lesser house here in Westeros but the position of Willow Glen in relation to the winds and tides has granted us a great deal more trade across the Narrow Sea than any other here. Those are the names of wealthy merchants or nobility from the cities across the Narrow Sea who have come to know the family of Greystone well over the years. Your marriage to Ailyn will also be a sign that you have our confidence and trust. This gesture should encourage them to trade more openly with the capitol and greatly increase your revenue for the crown,” suggested Lord Silvyn.  
“I see. We will take that into consideration,” said Lord Tywin handing Ailyn the list.  
“Thank you, Lord Tywin. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should find my brother,” muttered Lord Silvyn tiredly, kissing Ailyn on the cheek and shaking Lord Tywin’s hand before he left them.  
“Shall we get started?” Ailyn asked softly, when her father had gone. “It’s going to take a while.”  
Lord Tywin nodded in agreement, bringing some ink, quills and parchment over to the table.

 

It was late in the evening in the Hand’s chambers, when Lord Tywin and Lady Ailyn finished drawing up their respective guest lists for the wedding. They had been sitting together so they could avoid overlap between the two lists but even so, their combined count was well over 300.  
“This is too many,” said Ailyn tiredly, shaking her head.  
“And I don’t think this is enough,” replied Tywin, glancing at Ailyn.  
She looked over at him in surprise.  
“You want more people?”  
“We should not be seen to be sparing expenses,” argued Tywin gently.  
“Tywin, this will be the fourth wedding you’ve funded in nearly as many months. The money would be better spent on the city or building ships or…” Ailyn trailed off, her brain refusing to work.  
“While this wedding is about our union, it should also make a statement about our finances,” said Lord Tywin, pushing the paper away.  
“Wouldn’t it be better to make it a more exclusive affair? To reward those who have been loyal or are the closest family? There may be advantages to showing favor with some and denying it to others if this wedding is going to be about politics anyway,” reasoned Ailyn, trying a different approach.  
Tywin Lannister paused and studied Ailyn for a moment.  
“How many were you thinking?” he asked.  
“Half this number, if not less. It’s hardly exclusive if the entire court and their relatives are invited,” decided Ailyn, pushing her own pages away and standing up to stretch her back.  
“I will consider it. We can revisit this list tomorrow,” agreed Lord Tywin, rising as well and going to sit in his large arm chair by the fire.  
Ailyn went with him over to the fire but did not sit down.  
“It’s getting very late. I promised Mardyn I would look in on him tonight before he went to sleep,” said Ailyn quietly, looking down at Lord Tywin who was rubbing his eyes.  
He nodded but reached out and took her hand, drawing her closer to him and pulling her down.  
Ailyn smiled.  
She noticed his affections ran hot and cold; some days, he would only touch her hand and others, it seemed almost painful to him to stop touching or kissing her. Tonight, it appeared he wanted her close.  
The chair he was sitting in was large so Ailyn sat down on the edge of his lap and swiveled herself around so her body was perpendicular to his, her legs resting across his lap. She leaned into his chest and made herself comfortable against him. He rested his head on top of hers and shifted his arms so they were curled protectively around her.  
They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the flames flicker in the hearth.  
“I could take you to the Septon right now,” he murmured over the top of her head.  
“We could be married in private and not have all this fuss,” she whispered in agreement.  
“And go straight from wedding to bedding without anyone being the wiser,” added Ailyn mischievously.  
Lord Tywin made a growly noise in his throat.  
“Don’t tempt me,” he rumbled, tightening his arms around her.  
Ailyn shifted slightly and looked up at him.  
“That’s my job,” she argued softly, batting her lashes at him.  
“You are good at it too,” he muttered moving one hand from her arm and angling her head up so he could kiss her.  
They stayed joined, kissing almost lazily until Ailyn put her hand on his chest and moved her head back from his.  
“I should go,” she insisted breathlessly.  
Lord Tywin reluctantly agreed, and released her, holding her steady as she stood up.  
“Good night, Tywin,” said Ailyn, smiling down at him.  
“Ailyn.”  
Lady Ailyn walked out of the Hand’s chambers and down several hallways to Mardyn’s room to see if he was still awake. 

 

A few more days passed in which Ailyn barely saw anything of Lord Tywin. He was still trying to clean up the remaining fractious portions of Westeros and prepare for the coming winter. She spent the time alternately with Mardyn, her father and her uncle, catching up on all that she had missed while she was in Lord Tywin’s camp.  
Ailyn was sitting by the fire and realizing that she missed Lord Tywin when Gana announced his presence at her door.   
Ailyn smiled and bid him come in, rising from her chair by the fire and setting aside the endless lists she was making for wedding preparations. Gana opened the door further and gestured to Ailyn by the fire. Lord Tywin strode in, purposeful and authoritative as always; his dark clothing contrasted with the golden Hand pin that glinted in the firelight. As he walked up to her, she noticed a square, leather case in his hand. When he reached her, he said her name softly, as though he’d been waiting all day to say it, leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She leaned into him, clasping his free hand in hers and held her head near his as he paused. Lord Tywin stood back from her after a moment.  
“Tywin,” said Ailyn fondly. “How are you?”  
“Better now that I’m with you instead of my councilors,” he muttered, nearly rolling his tired eyes.  
She squeezed his hand a little and smiled indulgently at him.  
“I have something for you,” Lord Tywin said quietly, holding the case in his hand out to her. “It’s a wedding gift.”  
Ailyn accepted the box.  
“You’ve given me so much already, thank you. May I open it now?” she asked playfully.  
Tywin nodded.  
Ailyn smiled excitedly, and went over to her table and set the box down, running her fingers over the embossed golden lion on the cover. She opened the clasp and lifted the lid.   
Years of good breeding kept her mouth from going completely slack but even so, she stared at it in open-mouthed wonder. It was a necklace, more intricate and fine than any she had ever seen. It was not encrusted with jewels, as she had been expecting; instead, the smiths had created a delicate lattice-work of plain gold and silver. Each strand was separate but bonded to another of the opposite metal in such a way that it was difficult to see where one strand ended and the next began. The entire piece was the width of her hand and moved like a fine fabric as she touched it. Her throat constricted a little as she realized he had noticed she always wore simple silver jewelry and had tailored the necklace more to her wishes than to his own. She swallowed and glanced up at him, realizing she needed to say something.  
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, smiling up at him.  
A wave of relief passed over his face.  
“You like it?” he asked softly.  
“Very much.”  
She gently picked it up out of the case and held it out to Lord Tywin.  
“Put it on me,” she requested.  
Ailyn unclasped the silver necklace she was wearing as Tywin took his gift from her. She placed her necklace on the table and turned her back to Tywin, thankful she’d requested her hair be done up that day. Tywin lowered the necklace over her and deftly latched the clasp, his fingers whispering over the back of her neck. The metal was cool and smooth against her skin. Ailyn reached up to touch it as she turned around to let him see it on her.  
“Well?” asked Ailyn, her voice breathy with anticipation.  
Tywin’s mouth quirked into a small smile, admiration in his green eyes.  
“It suits you,” he pronounced proudly.  
Ailyn smiled even wider.   
“I want to see it,” she said, taking his hand and bringing him over to her long mirror.  
She stopped in front of it and looked at herself. The necklace made her look important, of better birth than she really was. Ailyn smiled and touched the necklace again self consciously, glancing at Tywin’s reflection as he came to stand behind her. She looked at the two of them, framed by the silver edging of the mirror and felt a small surge of confidence. Despite her doubts and fears, perhaps it would work out for the better.  
“I would have preferred it to have a gemstone of some kind but you don’t usually wear gems,” said Tywin to her reflection.  
“I like simpler jewelry. I’m not used to ostentatious things, as you are,” she reminded him. “I’ll wear it for the wedding.”  
Ailyn turned around to face him, reached up and kissed him.  
“Thank you,” she said again, softly.  
“You’re welcome, my lady,” replied Lord Tywin, holding her against him.  
“I can give you your gift now too, if you like,” Ailyn offered, smiling expectantly up at him.   
“Mine?” Lord Tywin looked down at her in surprise.  
“Of course,” said Ailyn, slipping out of his arms and walking over to her bedside table. She bent down and pulled out a long, wooden box.  
“I wasn’t sure when you wanted to exchange gifts so I’ve had this for about a week,” explained Ailyn, bringing the box over to him.  
Lord Tywin took it uncertainly, as if it had been a long time since anyone had given him a gift. He didn’t speak but took it over to the table and set it down to open it. The box was not as ornate as his had been; it was simple dark wood with her house sigil, a striking hawk, carved into the center of the lid. He lifted the cover and then flipped over the crushed velvet covering.   
Now that he had the gift, he looked surprised again at what it contained. So much so that Ailyn asked if anything was amiss.  
Lord Tywin looked over at her.  
“Not at all. Given the shape of the box, I was assuming it was a sword. Most of the gifts I’ve received over the years have been a blade of some kind. I am pleased that yours is different,” explained Tywin, reaching into the box and pulling out the first item.  
It was an ornate inkpot with a golden roaring lion’s head on one side and a silver screeching hawk on the other. The silver feathers of the hawk intertwined with the golden curls of the lion’s mane to connect the two heads and form the cup between for the ink. His mouth quirked up at the thought of them having the same idea about using gold and silver for their respective gifts.  
“It’s not as finely crafted as the necklace but I wanted you to have something on your desk that reminded you of me since I will not be with you when you make most of your decisions for the realm. It is my hope that its presence might…temper you a little,” Ailyn explained quietly, watching him inspect the inkpot.  
Tywin’s gaze moved from the item in his hand to Ailyn’s face, his mouth opening and closing in an effort to thank her. Gratitude was not something that came easily to the Lord of Casterly Rock.  
In the end, all he managed was, “I will put it on my desk tomorrow.”  
Ailyn smiled at him as he put it down on the table. The other items in the box were two bottles of the finest black ink from Pentos and three black quills, already sharpened for use. Lord Tywin nodded his approval then took up Ailyn hands and kissed her fingers.  
“You’re welcome,” Ailyn said, grinning at him. She leaned in and returned the kiss on the cheek that he had given her earlier.  
“You’ve been busy?” asked Lord Tywin, gesturing to the papers by the chair she had been sitting in.  
“I am trying to do the seating arrangements and would like your help,” asked Ailyn quietly.  
Lord Tywin pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“I trust you to make sound decisions concerning the placement of the families of Westeros. Draw one up and bring it to me tomorrow,” requested Tywin, closing the box of his gift.  
Ailyn was about to argue but decided against it, seeing how tired he was already.  
“You should get some sleep, Tywin,” urged Ailyn quietly, looking at the dark circles under his eyes.  
“I will sleep more easily when you are beside me,” said Lord Tywin looking at her.  
Ailyn smiled.  
“You may not. I have been told that I am a restless sleeper and hoard the covers,” she admitted meeting his eyes.  
“If there is a struggle for the blankets, my lady, you will not win,” Lord Tywin informed her with mild amusement.  
Ailyn laughed and cupped his cheek.  
“Then I look forward to our future struggles in bed,” she whispered smiling.  
Ailyn saw him glance at her bed as if he were contemplating staying the night.  
“Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you again for the necklace, Tywin. It’s beautiful,” she assured him warmly.  
“I am pleased you like it. And I do appreciate mine as well. More than I can say,” he replied quietly.  
He kissed her briefly and walked out, holding her gift against his chest. 

Later the next day, Ailyn went to Lord Tywin’s office to show him the seating arrangements she had been slaving over for the past day. She was announced and Lord Baelish walked out, giving her his signature smirking leer as he went past.  
Lady Ailyn walked into the Hand’s office holding the seating arrangements she had been working on all morning. Lord Tywin stood up from his desk and met her halfway across the room.  
“Ailyn,” he said quietly in greeting.  
“Tywin,” she replied, enjoying how much easier it was for them to address each other by their first names.  
“I’ve finished the seating arrangements now that we’ve cut down the guest list and wanted you to look over them before I gave them to the planner,” explained Ailyn, holding out a large roll of parchment to him.  
Lord Tywin nodded and took it over to the table, smoothing it out so he could see all of it. He studied it for a moment before he began to frown. His frown continued to deepen silently until Ailyn finally asked, “Is something wrong?”  
Tywin glanced at her and then back down at the parchment.  
“The Bradens cannot sit near the Mutons and if the Yarls are this close to the Regeses, there will be bloodshed before the soup course is served. And how important is it that these foreigners sit close to the High Table?” asked Lord Tywin absently, still frowning.   
“Then maybe you should have made time to sit with me this morning so I didn’t waste the last four hours doing it completely wrong,” she snapped, trying not to lose her temper.  
Lord Tywin looked at her sharply. Few people dared take that tone with him.  
“I know running the Seven Kingdoms is important and time consuming but the details of our wedding should matter to you too.”  
Ailyn looked down at the stone floor, her hands balling themselves up into fists.  
“I can’t do this alone,” whispered Ailyn, her voice cracking on the last word.  
Lord Tywin’s boots appeared in her field of vision as she continued staring obstinately at the floor. He reached out and very gently clasped her upper arms but when she didn’t look up at him, he moved past her to the door.  
Ailyn turned around angrily, thinking he was walking out but calmed down a little when she saw him give a few quiet instructions to the guards at the door. They bowed to him and he shut the door. Ailyn watched him return to her, a sense of mild trepidation coming over her. Lord Tywin removed his Hand pin and set it down on the table. He didn’t look angry and his touch was still gentle as he picked up both her hands and held them until she stopped making fists.  
“Will you sit with me now so we can do this together?” asked Lord Tywin Lannister of his future wife.  
Ailyn met his pale green eyes and nodded her consent, not yet trusting her voice.  
He turned away from her to gather some paper and quills from his desk. Ailyn surreptitiously wiped her eyes when he wasn’t looking and moved over to the table. Lord Tywin placed the ink pot she had given him down between them, the roaring lion facing his side and the hawk turned to hers. He pulled back a chair for her and pushed it in as she sat down. The Hand of the King sat down beside her and handed her one of her quills.  
“Can this one be salvaged or do we need to start a new one?” asked Ailyn, indicating her arrangements.  
“It may be easier to start on a fresh sheet,” replied Tywin glancing at her to gauge her reaction.  
Ailyn sighed and set a new sheet between them, leaving hers nearby for reference.  
After a few hours, and some mild bickering, they had a new arrangement drawn up that pleased them both.  
“And the flowers?” asked Tywin as they both stood up.  
“I spoke with Maergery a few days ago and asked High Garden if they would supply the flowers for the wedding. It seemed the obvious choice,” answered Lady Ailyn, watching his face again.  
Lord Tywin nodded.  
“Good. I was going to suggest that if you hadn’t made a decision.”  
“At least we think alike some of the time,” said Ailyn, smiling a little.  
“What kind of flowers did you want?” Tywin inquired.  
“I was thinking red roses with sprigs of grey willow petals would be appropriate,” suggested Ailyn.  
“Red and grey,” mused Tywin, looking at her.  
“It will match my dress,” hinted Ailyn smiling wider.  
“The dress I’ve paid for but am not allowed to see,” Lord Tywin said, the slightest of edges in his voice.  
“I told you, it will be a surprise. One that you will approve of, don’t worry,” Ailyn assured him picking up the new seating arrangements and sighing a little.  
“Is anything else bothering you?” asked Tywin, searching her face.  
“No. I will just be more at ease when this is all over and we can get on with our lives,” said Ailyn.   
“So will I,” confirmed Lord Tywin, putting his hands carefully over hers while she held the parchment.  
Ailyn went up on her toes and kissed him affectionately.  
“Come see me later?” she asked hopefully.  
“When I can get away, yes, I will come to you,” he promised as she rolled up the parchment.  
Tywin Lannister watched her leave and then moved back to his desk to compose several more letters.

 

Author’s note: Thank you everyone for your feedback! When I started this story, I had no idea it would become the sprawling monster it is now so thank you for pointing out inconsistencies and reminding me of things I had forgotten. I know the timeline for the wedding planning is slightly screwy but just assume that the required amount of time is passing. The next chapter will be the wedding!


	30. Lord and Lady Lannister

“My lady, wake up. It’s your wedding day,” whispered a gentle, but excited voice near Ailyn’s ear.  
Lady Ailyn blinked blearily up at Gana who was wearing the biggest grin she had seen on the girl’s face in a long time. As her maid’s words registered in her mind, Ailyn snapped awake, her stomach turning over. She had slept restlessly the previous night; dreams of everything going wrong at the ceremony, Lord Tywin being disappointed with her, crowded back into her conscience. Ailyn firmly pushed those thoughts away along with her blankets.  
“The bath is all prepared for you and Din is looking over your dress to make sure nothing is amiss,” said Gana, walking beside Ailyn.  
“I hope it still fits,” murmured Ailyn, slipping out of her dressing gown and into the gently steaming rose water of her bath.  
“If anything it might be a little loose. You haven’t been eating as much as you should the last few days,” Gana scolded her.  
Ailyn nodded absently and tried to relax in the warm water.  
“Is anything wrong?” Gana asked as she carefully poured a jug of water over Ailyn’s hair.  
“I’m still having a hard time believing that this is real. That the Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister, wants me to be his wife. What if we go to the Sept and he isn’t there or has changed his mind?” fretted Ailyn, her eyes going wide as she looked at Gana.  
Her maid put down the jug and clasped Ailyn’s shoulders firmly.  
“My lady, from the little I have seen of Lord Tywin, he is not the sort to do something without a good reason. You know he cares for you and desires you. If there was any doubt in his mind about marrying you, he would have called it off by now,” Gana said, trying to reassure her.  
“You can’t tell me you aren’t a little excited?” wheedled Gana, searching Ailyn’s face.  
Ailyn smiled widely.  
“I am excited, Gana. My excitement is currently competing with my concern, that’s all. I am looking forward to being married again.”  
“Good. Now no more twisting around so I can wash your hair,” admonished Gana softly.  
Later, after Din and Gana had finished putting the last pin in her hair, they both brought her dress over and helped her slip it on.   
“Take a breath, my lady. I am going to lace up the back,” warned Gana.  
The bodice of the dress was a deep crimson with House Lannister’s lion and House Greystone’s Hawk facing one another, their outlines done in small seed pearls. There was a band of grey around her shoulders with small hooks to hold up her maiden’s cloak. The sleeves were long and full in grey as well and the length of the dress billowed away from her slightly, the fabric was folded over itself in such a way that, when she moved, the underlining of the skirt shown through in crimson. Lord Tywin’s gold and silver necklace rested perfectly in the neckline of her dress.  
“Oh Ailyn!” gasped Gana, as she turned around to look at her maid when they were finished. She couldn’t get any words out but her eyes teared up as she looked at the bride.  
There was a knock on the door as Ailyn went to the mirror to look at herself. Din moved to get it while Gana stayed beside her, blinking furiously.  
“I wish you could stand with me today, Gana but I’m afraid Lord Tywin won’t allow it,” said Ailyn quietly.  
“It is kind of you to say so, my lady. You will make him very happy today,” Gana whispered back.  
“I hope so. At least as happy as I am,” said Ailyn smiling at her striking reflection in the mirror.  
“Ailyn? Are you ready?” called her father’s voice from the doorway.  
Gana moved away from Ailyn who was obscured from the doorway by the hangings of her bed.  
“Gana? Is everything alright?” she heard Lord Silvyn ask, concerned.  
“Yes father, everything is just as it should be,” said Ailyn softly, walking out to stand before her father.  
Lord Silvyn’s grey eyes went wide as he looked at his daughter. He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out; he simply stared at her.  
“Ailyn!” cried Mardyn as he slipped inside the room and made a mad dash for his sister. He was still excited to see her every day even though they had been in King’s Landing nearly a week now.  
Ailyn smiled and bent down to hug him.  
“You’re pretty,” said the little boy matter-of-factly, looking up at her.  
“Thank you, Mardyn. But you haven’t seen the best part yet,” she teased him, standing up.  
“What’s that?”  
Ailyn entreated him to stand back a little and then spun around a few times, her dress floating out, the red fabric flashing through the grey.  
“Oooo,” breathed Mardyn as she came to a stop, her skirts still swirling around her.  
She smiled down at him and then looked at her father who had come up to stand beside her. He was still struggling to speak so instead, he picked up her hand and gently kissed her fingers, his own eyes a little damp.  
“You look like your mother,” he said quietly, gazing at her. He meant it lovingly and proudly.  
Then, it was Ailyn’s turn to blink back tears.  
“Father,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek.  
Lord Silvyn cleared his throat and stood back from her.  
“Come now, none of that today. I want you to be happy,” said Lord Silvyn brusquely, trying to hide his emotions.  
“I am, father, very happy,” said Ailyn smiling up at him then down at her brother who had taken hold of her other hand.  
“Good. We should be on our way. Lord Tywin is already at the Sept,” Lord Silvyn informed them, trying to herd his children toward the door.  
“Wait.”  
Ailyn went back in and hugged Gana fiercely and when she hugged Din, to her surprise, the girl squeezed her back. Ailyn smiled at them both and then took her father’s arm to walk down to the Sept.  
They met her uncle, Ser Garrick, on their way.   
“Gods, Ailyn,” was the only coherent thing he managed to get out. He beamed proudly at her as though she were his daughter too.  
They kept walking and soon met the small crowd of people gathered in a side chamber just outside the Sept.  
Queen Maergery squealed with delight when she saw Ailyn and ran up to clasp her hands.  
“You look amazing, Ailyn,” smiled the Queen happily.  
“Thank you, Your Grace. Your dress is lovely too,” Ailyn complimented her, looking over her green dress with golden roses embroidered all down the skirt.  
“Isn’t it? I just love weddings,” cooed Maergery, moving a little to the side as Lady Genna came up to them.  
“Oh well done, Ailyn. You look wonderful,” said Lady Genna kindly, looking her up and down. “I’m here to see that everyone gets assembled properly.”  
“I think everyone is here. Does King Tommen have the rings?” asked Ailyn looking around for him.   
“Ah, slight change of plans there. King Tommen has Lord Tywin’s ring and will give it to you. I thought Mardyn should give Lord Tywin your ring. This should be about both families, not just ours,” said Genna, pulling something from her pocket and slipping away to speak to Lord Silvyn and Mardyn.  
In the meantime, Ailyn’s flowers arrived in a small but elegant bouquet of red roses and soft sprigs of Willow petals. She smiled happily while the ladies around her admired the arrangement.   
Eventually, most of the people filed into the Sept to take their seats leaving only some of the members of the wedding party in the small anteroom.   
“Perhaps we should…Genna, what’s wrong?” asked Ailyn suddenly as Lady Genna’s face went slack. She was looking fixedly at someone off to Ailyn’s left. Ailyn turned around to look but only the Queen Regent was standing there looking smug and proud as usual. She looked from Lady Genna to Cersei, unable to see what the problem was. She thought Cersei’s gown looked a little odd, it was elegant and expensive but faded and slightly out of date.   
“Ailyn,” said her father, coming up to her as Lady Genna stormed over to the Queen Regent, “I think we should get ready to walk out. Is there a problem?” he asked watching Lady Genna arguing heatedly with Cersei.  
“I don’t know,” said Ailyn honestly.  
She went over to the two women who went silent as she arrived.  
“Is everything alright?” asked Ailyn, frowning at them.  
Lady Genna let out an angry breath.  
“Yes. You and your father should go stand outside the doors. I will get everyone inside,” said Lady Genna, taking Cersei firmly by the upper arm with a glare and then extending her hand down to Mardyn who had snuck up on Ailyn.  
“Come little man, let’s go find your uncle,” Lady Genna offered with a kind smile as she took Mardyn’s hand.  
Then suddenly, Ailyn and Lord Silvyn were alone, standing outside the doors of the Sept waiting for the ceremony to begin.  
“Ailyn, I am more proud of you than I can say and I love you dearly,” said Lord Silvyn quietly, looking over at her.  
Ailyn smiled up at him as she had since she was a little girl.  
“I love you too, father,” she whispered as a few horns sounded inside the Sept.  
She took his proffered arm, stood up straight and took as deep a breath as her dress would allow as two guards opened the Sept doors before them.  
All the nobility of Westeros turned to look at her as the drums started playing a soft march. There was a wide aisle down the center at the end stood Lord Tywin. Even at a distance, Lady Ailyn was struck by his regal look and bearing. His black boots shone in the candlelight against his black breeches and the golden embroidering on his tailored crimson tunic flashed as he moved. She noticed that he had even shaved his bristly beard for her.  
Lord Tywin was not, however, looking at Ailyn. He was glaring fiercely over at Maergery, Genna and Cersei who were standing opposite him as Ailyn’s bridesmaids. Even Ser Kevan, who was directly behind Lord Tywin, looked shocked.  
Ailyn was careful to keep a brilliant smile on her face as she and Lord Silvyn began to walk towards them. Ser Kevan noticed that the ceremony had started and surreptitiously touched Lord Tywin on the arm to get his attention. Lord Tywin dragged his flashing eyes away from the women opposite him and looked at his bride. The anger in his features melted away as he focused on her, taking in her dress, her smile, the light in her eyes. Ailyn flushed happily, seeing that he was extremely pleased with her. She hoped he would set aside whatever was causing him distress, at least for the ceremony, until she could talk to him about it.  
They reached the end of the aisle and Lord Silvyn turned her to him and kissed her on both cheeks. Then, he took her hand and walked her the remaining distance to Lord Tywin. The Lord Of Casterly Rock put out his hand and Lord Silvyn placed Lady Ailyn’s in his, nodding respectfully to him. Lord Tywin returned the gesture and led Lady Ailyn up the two steps to the altar in front of the High Septon. The corner of his mouth was quirked up into his smile, admiration showing plainly in his green eyes. Ailyn handed her small bouquet to Queen Maergery and then turned back to face Lord Tywin, placing both her hands in his as the Septon began the ceremony.  
Ailyn barely heard the words he was intoning as she studied Lord Tywin’s face. She had never seen him so pleased. Once, his eyes wandered past her and his brow began to darken but she pressed his hands and his attention to her did not waver afterward.  
“Lord Tywin Lannister, do you have the ring for Lady Ailyn Greystone?” asked the Septon, looking at the Hand of the King.   
Lady Ailyn and Lord Tywin both looked over at Mardyn who stood up straight and with a very serious expression on his face, moved away from Lord Silvyn’s side and walked up to Lord Tywin nervously. Her brother held up his hand and uncurled his fingers, revealing Ailyn’s ring. She was busy smiling at her brother and didn’t look closely at the ring Lord Tywin plucked from his palm with a small nod. Mardyn flashed her a quick smile and then almost ran back to her father’s side. Ailyn looked back up at Lord Tywin who took her left hand and slipped the ring on her finger. Ailyn’s eyes went wide as she looked down at the sparkling stones. The band was silver and the center gem was a large, glinting ruby encircled by a ring of smaller diamonds.

She thought back to the day Lord Tywin had asked her to try on several rings.  
“I have five rings for you to try on. It will be a surprise for both of us that way,” Lord Tywin had said coming toward her with a small box and a long strip of crimson cloth.  
“What’s this for?” asked Ailyn, pointing to the cloth in his hands as he set the box of rings down on the table.  
A devious look filled the Lord of Lannister’s green eyes.  
“You won’t get to see the ring until our wedding. This is so you can’t look,” said Lord Tywin coming toward her with the blindfold.  
“I can’t see my ring?” Ailyn quipped in surprise.  
“May I see your dress?” retorted Lord Tywin pausing before her.  
“No.”  
“Then close your eyes, my lady,” cautioned Lord Tywin lifting the cloth up to her face.  
“You don’t trust me?” Ailyn whispered quietly as he leaned in to tie the cloth around her head.  
“I don’t want you to be tempted,” breathed Lord Tywin near her ear making her blush a little.  
She felt him take up her left hand and slip a cool band of metal onto her ring finger. It was too loose and Ailyn said so. The band disappeared and was replaced by another only this one didn’t make it past her second knuckle. Ailyn didn’t have to say anything before Lord Tywin removed it and tried a third. This one fit perfectly and Ailyn told him. Lord Tywin made a thoughtful noise and tried the remaining two on her but the third one had fit the best.  
“That’s settled then. I think you will like it,” murmured Lord Tywin softly, taking the ring off her finger.  
“May I take this off now,” Ailyn asked with a patient smile, indicating the blindfold.  
She felt him move close to her but instead of removing the blindfold, he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, making her gasp in surprise. She wriggled a little against the tickling of his beard and he moved to kiss her mouth instead. When he stood back from her, the blindfold came away in his hands. 

“Lady Ailyn Greystone, do you have the ring for Lord Tywin Lannister?” asked the High Septon, jerking her back to reality as she dragged her attention away from the ring on her finger.  
Lady Ailyn looked over at King Tommen who came forward just as seriously as Mardyn had done, lifting Lord Tywin’s ring up so she could take it. Ailyn curtseyed to the King and took the thick band of bonded silver and gold from him.  
“May you take this ring from me as a sign of my devotion to you on this day and for all the days to come,” she vowed to him as she slid the ring onto his finger.  
Lord Tywin’s mouth quirked up as he beamed at her.  
“Lord Tywin, you may remove Lady Ailyn’s maiden cloak as she is now yours in the sight of gods and men,” droned the priest.  
Ailyn turned so he could remove her grey cloak. Lord Tywin took it from her shoulders and handed it to Ser Kevan who gave him a crimson Lannister cloak in exchange.  
She watched his fingers click his cloak into place on her dress and felt him give her shoulders an affectionate squeeze before he moved to stand before her again. She smiled happily at him and then they turned to face the crowd.  
“My Lords and Ladies of Westeros and guests from across the Narrow Sea, may I present Lord Tywin and Lady Ailyn Lannister,” announced the Septon.  
A dull roar of applause filled the Great Sept and Ailyn blinked happily down at her father, her uncle and Mardyn,  
Lord Tywin and Lady Ailyn turned to each other and he kissed her briefly on the mouth before moving back. Ailyn was a little disappointed but he had never been overly affectionate to her in public. And they were very much on display at the moment.   
The trumpets sounded and Lord Tywin led her down the steps and walked out of the Sept with her. She could hear the bells tolling somewhere above them. They walked together to a small room off the main hall where the feast was going to be held. A guard closed the door behind them, leaving them alone for the first time that day. Then Ailyn got the kiss she had been hoping for. Lord Tywin pulled her up hard against him and kissed her mouth open possessively. Ailyn made a soft noise against his lips and brought her hands up to his chest.  
“Tywin please, we have dinner and dancing. Don’t start this yet,” she breathed hazily as he broke the kiss to look down at her.  
“I don’t want food; I want you,” he growled, not taking his arms away from her.   
Ailyn blushed at the greedy look in his eyes and gently pushed him back.  
“We have to. The feast was the most expensive part of this wedding, we are going to enjoy it,” said Ailyn firmly.  
Tywin grumbled something incoherent, eyeing her mouth.  
“Do you like the dress?” asked Ailyn, twirling away from him to distract him.  
“It’s perfect,” complimented the Lord of Casterly Rock.  
“And you look very handsome,” replied Ailyn smiling. “Thank you for shaving.”  
Lord Tywin nodded.  
He looked so happy that Ailyn didn’t want to ask him what had upset him or Ser Kevan and Lady Genna for that matter, about Cersei.  
There was a knock on the door and Lord Tywin bid them come in. It was one of their stewards and he looked a little harried.  
“I am deeply sorry my lord and lady but there is a small problem with the tables that requires your attention,” said the man meekly as Lord Tywin glared at him.  
“I will see to it. I’ll be back in a moment, Ailyn,” Lord Tywin declared, striding out.  
As he left, Ser Kevan and Lady Genna came in to see her.  
“Lady Ailyn, congratulations. You look breathtaking,” Ser Kevan told her, embracing her gently.  
“She looks like she belongs beside him and that is not easily done. Congratulations, my dear,” seconded Lady Genna, kissing her gently on the cheek.  
“Thank you both. I am honored to be a part of your family,” Ailyn replied smiling warmly at both of them.  
“But I feel I need to know what upset you and Lord Tywin so much about Cersei,” added Ailyn, looking from brother to sister.  
They exchanged an uneasy glance and then Ser Kevan spoke.  
“Ailyn, I don’t know if I should…” began Ser Kevan glancing hesitantly at the door.  
“Please,” insisted Ailyn.  
“That dress Cersei was wearing… it belonged to Lady Joanna. It was one of her favorites. I don’t think Tywin knew she had it. He ordered all of Joanna’s things be locked away when she died,” explained Ser Kevan with a pained look.  
“And she wore it to her father’s wedding?” asked Ailyn, aghast.  
She felt ill at first, and then an ugly, white hot rage burned through her. Today was supposed to be about the two of them. She would put up with Cersei’s cruelty to herself but, causing pain to Lord Tywin was something she would not stand for. He had made her a lion; It was time to flex her claws.  
“Kevan, I want you to go to Cersei and tell her Tywin wants to speak with her. Bring her to this room and tell her to wait. Then come get me; I’d like a word with Her Grace,” ordered Ailyn, in icy tones.  
Ser Kevan looked uncertainly at his new sister-in-law.  
“You should distract Lord Tywin while I’m away if you need to. I want five minutes alone with her,” Ailyn’s voice had a dangerous edge to it.  
“Ailyn I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” began Lady Genna nervously but the look Ailyn gave her stopped her.  
“I’m not asking,” said Ailyn giving them both one last look and then striding toward the door.  
Ailyn fixed a smile on her face and went out to greet a few of the more important wedding guests who had assembled outside the hall. Lord Tywin was near the door, listening with barely controlled patience to whatever problem the steward was explaining to him.  
Ailyn grinned at Queen Maergery and Maergery winked at her before bending down a little to speak with King Tommen. Ailyn spotted Cersei standing near Ser Jaime who also looked a little upset with her. She stopped talking to Ser Jaime and listened to her uncle, glancing a few times at her father and then went with Ser Kevan off to the side room. Ailyn gulped down half a glass of wine, then Kevan was at her side again.  
“She’s waiting. Try not to cause a scene, Ailyn. You’ll only hurt him more if he’s embarrassed,” warned Ser Kevan, touching her arm lightly and looking at her meaningfully.  
Ailyn nodded and Ser Kevan moved to join Lord Tywin at the doors. Ailyn threaded her way through the assembled wedding guests, smiling and thanking everyone as she went. When she reached the door, Ailyn motioned two guards over and told them to stand outside the room and not let anyone enter. Then, taking a deep breath, Ailyn turned the latch and stepped inside.  
Cersei stood near the table, a proud, haughty look on her face. She turned when Ailyn entered and the smug look slid into confusion, then defiance.  
“I’m waiting for my father,” said Cersei dismissively, looking away from Ailyn as if she bored her.  
“I know. You’re seeing me instead,” replied Ailyn walking over to Cersei.  
“I have nothing to say to you,” hissed the Queen Regent angrily, her aloof hauteur slipping for a second.  
“But I have a great deal to say to you Cersei,” retorted Ailyn coldly.  
Cersei Lannister looked affronted.  
“How dare you address me like that? I am the Queen!” she snapped, taking a step closer to Ailyn.  
“No, you’re not. Maergery is the Queen. You are merely the Queen Regent if you still need to cling to that title. You are no longer needed at court. It is only your father’s leniency that allows you to stay in King’s Landing at all,” said Ailyn, her voice emotionless but her grey eyes burned.  
“I will not stand here and listen to this,” snarled Cersei moving toward her but Ailyn stepped in her path and remained there.  
“You want your father’s approval and trust but why should he treat you like an adult when all you do is act like a petulant child?” asked Ailyn in annoyance.  
Cersei narrowed her green eyes.  
“You are unmarried; you form no alliance for House Lannister. That makes you useless in Lord Tywin’s eyes. You are a dead weight around his neck and after today, you’ve managed to make yourself a painful, dead weight,” Ailyn continued softly.  
She saw Cersei pull back her arm to slap her but Ailyn grabbed her wrist, wrenched it around behind Cersei’s back and shoved her forward hard, into the edge of the table. Ailyn had killed men; Cersei had only ever summoned her guards.  
Cersei stumbled forward, taken by surprise and gasped in pain as her hip banged into the table. She bent over it to catch her breath, turning her head to stare at Ailyn in anger and fear, her golden hair tumbling around her face.  
“My guards will have you killed for that,” she spat viciously, pushing herself upright.  
“Call them. Make a scene. Give your father yet another reason to wish you gone from his sight forever,” taunted Ailyn.  
Cersei paused, angry and uncertain.  
“You know the families your father still wishes to make an alliance with. You know what your future holds if you remain in Westeros. I suggest you take a look at the guests tonight and think very carefully about your next step,” Ailyn offered coldly.  
Cersei’s mouth opened and closed but no words came out.  
“Now go back to your room, change your dress and make yourself agreeable for the rest of the evening or I will convince Lord Tywin that marrying you to one of the Greyjoys is his best choice,” threatened Ailyn.  
“You can’t do that,” snapped Cersei but the conviction was gone from her voice.  
“I have his ear and his confidence. You have not had either for some time. Now get out,” ordered Ailyn disdainfully, stepping aside to let Cersei go.  
Cersei glared at Ailyn and Ailyn returned it coolly, waiting.  
Cersei dropped her eyes first and stormed out.  
Ailyn took a few steadying breaths and then rejoined the guests, fixing a smile on her face. Ser Kevan was speaking to Lord Tywin who had his back to Ailyn and hadn’t seen his daughter walk out. She went up to them, nodding slightly to Ser Kevan to thank him as she came up beside Lord Tywin.  
“Are we almost ready to go in?” Ailyn asked Lord Tywin who turned to look at her.  
“In a moment. Is everything alright? You’re flushed,” said Tywin, eyeing her with concern.  
Ailyn smiled warmly at him.  
“I’m fine. I’ll have some water when we sit down,” murmured Ailyn, taking his arm.  
Lord Tywin glanced back at the assembled guests who were starting to filter past them in to the main hall.  
“I want to speak with my daughter…” began Lord Tywin, anger clouding his countenance but Ailyn pressed his arm.  
“I have already spoken with her. She is changing and will be down shortly. She will not poison this day for us,” said Ailyn firmly, pressing his arm.  
Lord Tywin glanced at his brother and then back down at Lady Ailyn.  
“I apologize for my daughter’s behavior…” Lord Tywin started to say as Ser Kevan left them to go inside but Ailyn shook her head.  
“Please, don’t dwell on it. I am sorry that she hurt you today of all days but try to enjoy tonight, for my sake,” pleaded Ailyn.  
“You needn’t worry about my enjoyment of the evening. I will be pleased so long as you are at my side,” Lord Tywin reassured her taking her hand in his.  
Ailyn smiled.  
“That is where I will remain for the rest of our life together,” she whispered happily.  
He gazed affectionately down at her and was about to kiss her again when the horns sounded to announce their entrance into the Hall for the feast. Lord Tywin straightened and threaded her arm through his. The doors opened and the Hand of the King and His Lady walked into the Great Hall.


	31. The Feast

Lord Tywin and Lady Ailyn Lannister entered the main hall to the same thunderous applause that had marked their exit from the Sept. She smiled brilliantly at everyone around her, knowing that she would have to do enough smiling that night for the both of them. Lord Tywin led her up the long aisle to where their table waited, bowing low before the King and Queen on their way. Ailyn paused to let Lord Tywin remove the Lannister cloak from her gown and watched proudly as he draped it over her chair at his side. He pulled the chair out for her himself and helped her be seated. After Lord Twyin sat, the rest of the gathered guests felt safe in their assumption that they could sit as well.  
Almost instantly, all the side doors opened and a steady stream of servers appeared with steaming dishes for each table. A small cluster of servers surrounded the head table and set a covered, golden platter down before the bride and groom along with several other side dishes.   
Out of the corner of her eye, Ailyn saw Lord Tywin wrinkle his nose. He glanced at Lady Ailyn before the cover was lifted.  
“That doesn’t smell like wild boar,” he remarked.  
“It shouldn’t,” replied Lady Ailyn with a secretive smile.  
The golden lid was lifted revealing a large side of braised venison surrounded by a tasteful arrangement of vegetables.  
“The guests are eating boar; we are having vension,” explained Lady Ailyn watching the confusion gather on Lord Tywin’s face. “It’s your favorite.”  
“How do you know?” asked Lord Tywin, trying to recall if they had ever had that conversation.  
“I had a short conversation with your cook a week or so ago,” said Ailyn as she carefully slid her sleeves back and served Lord Tywin herself.  
“Ailyn,” he breathed, looking at her with admiration.  
Lady Ailyn smiled at seeing how pleased he was.  
“You’re welcome,” she said quietly as she finished serving him.  
She was about to serve herself when he stopped her.  
“Allow me,” said Lord Tywin, his smile curling the side of his mouth.  
Ailyn sat back and smiled until her face hurt.  
While they were eating, Ailyn saw Cersei slink into her chair at the end of their table wearing a bright Lannister red dress. She ignored the food on her plate and immediately reached for the wine goblet in front of her. If Lord Tywin noticed her, he did not comment.   
“You were right,” murmured Ailyn as they began to eat the dessert course.  
“About what?” asked Lord Tywin, turning to look at her.  
“I can see the Yarls glaring at the Regeses from here. You were right to separate them,” admitted Ailyn, taking a sip of water. Her head was getting a little fuzzy even though she had only had one glass of wine with dinner.  
“Let us hope they behave when the tables are taken away,” muttered Lord Tywin, motioning to the enterprising planner who was overseeing this wedding to start bringing the guests forward who wished to congratulate them.  
In between bites of lemon cakes and sips of wine, the bride and groom took turns thanking the guests who came forward to congratulate them on their union. Representatives of nearly all the Greater and quite a few of the Lesser houses of Westeros came before them to wish them well. The table for gifts was piled high with offerings and beneath it sat nearly two dozen wooden chests filled with gold. Ailyn had requested that whatever money they received from the wedding should go towards its expenses and the remainder would be put toward the debt the crown had amassed. Lord Tywin did not object to her wishes.  
Zalasar the Great, one of the wealthiet merchants of Tyr came before their table to wish them well.  
“May the God of Seven faces smile upon your union now and always,” said the wealthy merchant in slow, heavily accented Westerosi.  
Ailyn thanked him for his kind words in perfect Tyroshi. Her focus remained on the merchant in front of her but she felt Lord Tywin’s gaze shift suddenly to her face in surprise.  
Zalasar grinned toothily at Lady Ailyn then touched his forehead and showed her his palms as was the customary Tyroshi way of excusing one’s self. Ailyn returned the gesture and then glanced at her husband who was still looking at her curiously.  
“You never told me you spoke Tyroshi. How many other languages can you speak?” asked Lord Tywin.  
“Just Tyroshi and High Valyrian. Those were the only two I was interested in learning,” replied Lady Ailyn, taking a sip of her Arbor Gold.  
“You sounded like a native,” remarked Lord Tywin still watching her with interest.  
Ailyn grinned at him and leaned in until she was close to his ear.  
“I am good with my tongue,” she whispered teasingly and was gratified by the slight pause in Lord Tywin’s breathing.  
Ailyn moved back away from him and blushed at the dark look in her lord’s eyes.  
“Good evening, Lady Ailyn; my Lord Tywin. Allow me to congratulate you on such a beautiful wedding,” offered another heavily accented voice before them.  
Ailyn and Lord Tywin turned to see Prince Khersian standing there, in tasteful purple robes, heavy jewelry with well groomed, long black hair accenting the deep brown of his eyes and his olive complexion.  
“Thank you for joining us, Prince Khersian. We are pleased that you were able to attend,” said Lady Ailyn politely.  
“I would not miss your wedding for anything, my lady. You are a very lucky man, my lord,” said the prince smoothly, bowing low to both of them.  
Lady Ailyn smiled and Lord Tywin nodded.  
“How was the lamb?” asked Lady Ailyn, knowing the cooks had prepared several separate dishes for all the nobility who had come from across the Narrow Sea.  
“Exquisite. My compliments to your cooks. I had not thought to eat anything quite so fine while in Westeros,” replied Prince Khersian.  
Lord Tywin narrowed his eyes slightly at the aspersion in his tone.  
“We hope you enjoy your evening Prince Khersian. Thank you again for joining us,” responded Ailyn swiftly.  
“I am sure I will,” murmured the prince, casting a look farther down the table before bowing to them and moving away.  
“Does he think we are uncivilized?” muttered Lord Tywin taking a drink of wine.  
“I think he has the same opinion about Westeros as you have about the Free Cities, my lord,” replied Ailyn diplomatically.  
Lord Tywin made a thoughtful noise in his throat.  
“Are you ready to dance?” asked Lord Tywin, setting down his cup after the last lord has given them his blessings.  
“Please,” smiled Ailyn, turning to the side and standing.  
Ailyn took Lord Tywin’s proffered hand and walked with him past the tables to the empty space at the far end of the hall. The musicians quickly picked up their instruments and after pausing long enough for Lady Ailyn and Lord Tywin to take their places, began to play.  
“This is the first song we danced to,” exclaimed Ailyn, pressing her hand to Lord Tywin’s as they moved in a circle.  
Lord Tywin nodded, pleased that she had noticed.  
“You remembered it?”  
“I will never forget it,” returned Lord Tywin, moving his arm up to spin her and then brought her back in close to him.  
Ailyn glowed with happiness as she and Lord Tywin danced their way gracefully across the floor.  
“I have a request to make,” she said after a time.  
“The first of many, no doubt,” quipped Lord Tywin, looking affectionately down at her.  
“Someday, it doesn’t have to be today, but someday, I want you to smile for me so I know that you are truly happy,” asked Ailyn quietly with a smile.  
Lord Tywin’s expression shifted to one of concern.  
“Ailyn, I may not look it, but you have still made me happier than I had dared think possible. I resolved long ago to spend the rest of my days in solitude but after having met you, that prospect seemed grim and unbearable. You saved me from that,” insisted Lord Tywin, pulling her a little closer to his chest as they revolved slowly.  
Ailyn smiled up at him.  
“And to think, six months ago, I didn’t even know you,” murmured Ailyn shaking her head.  
“Now I can’t imagine my future without you,” said Lord Tywin softly, pressing her hand in his.  
“You’ll never have to,” promised Ailyn devotedly.  
Lord Tywin stopped moving as the song ended but Ailyn was too wrapped up in the moment and took a few extra steps before she realized the song was over.  
She laughed good naturedly at her mistake and then motioned for other wedding guests to join them on the dance floor.   
“One more, Tywin and then you may have to cut in for the rest of the evening. I’ve already promised a dance to half a dozen guests,” Ailyn said still holding his hand.  
Lord Tywin raised an eyebrow.  
“I don’t like the idea of sharing you,” he murmured as other couples filled in the space around them.  
Ailyn smiled.  
“You have guests to speak to and deals to make while so many influential people are gathered here. I’ll come to you when I need a break from dancing,” said Lady Ailyn as they began to dance again.  
Their second dance was soon over and Lord Silvyn came to claim his daughter for the next dance while Lord Tywin moved off to speak with some cousins of his. Ailyn danced with her father, then her uncle, Ser Kevan and even Mardyn to the amusement of all around them.  
Lady Ailyn saw Lord Tywin speaking with many male guests but occasionally his eyes would find hers as she spun around the dance floor. She always had a smile ready for him.  
Finally, she left the floor to drink a large glass of water. As Ailyn caught her breath, she looked around at the assembled guests. Her smile slid off her face as she spotted Cersei flirting with Lord Silvyn. Her father was being polite and attentive but Ailyn’s stomach turned over when Cersei motioned to the dance floor. Lord Silvyn smiled but shook his head, gesturing to Ailyn who was not in conversation with anyone. Cersei glanced over at Lady Ailyn as Lord Silvyn began to walk towards his daughter. Lord Tywin’s daughter gave her an ugly look and stomped off in search of more wine.  
“Father, what was she saying to you?” demanded Ailyn in hushed anxiety as her father came up to her.  
“Be easy Ailyn. I know what that woman almost did to you. Her charms such as they are hold no appeal for me,” Lord Silvyn assured his daughter.  
Ailyn sighed in relief and suppressed her desire to throw wine in Cersei’s face.  
“Have you seen your uncle since you danced with him?” asked her father glancing around uneasily.  
Ailyn shook her head.  
“He’s probably over there,” muttered Lord Silvyn, kissing Ailyn on the cheek and then moving toward a table full of men playing a noisy drinking game.  
Ailyn chuckled and spied Lord Tywin caught in a knot of nobility looking dangerously bored. Ailyn moved to rescue him when she saw Ser Jaime standing with Lady Brienne, who surprisingly, was wearing a navy blue dress that she almost looked comfortable in.   
Lady Ailyn decided to speak with them and walked over before someone intercepted her.  
“Ser Jaime, Lady Brienne, good evening,” greeted Ailyn, coming up to them.  
Ser Jaime arched an eyebrow at her in surprise, the same way his father did, and Lady Brienne blushed a little, offering her compliments to Ailyn.  
“Thank you. That dress looks good on you,” said Ailyn gently.  
“It is kind of you to say so, Lady Ailyn,” replied Brienne with a small smile.  
“So you’ll accept her compliments but not mine?” quipped Ser Jaime, in a hurt tone.  
“Lady Ailyn wasn’t being sarcastic,” retorted Lady Brienne giving him a look.  
Ser Jaime put his hand over his heart and his green eyes went wide as though she had wounded him greatly with that accusation.  
“If you’ll excuse me, my lady, I think I’ll take another cup of wine,” murmured Brienne, giving Ailyn a tight curtsey before walking off.  
“Ser Jaime,” began Ailyn quietly but the knight cut her off with an impatient wave of his good hand.  
“Please, Lady Ailyn, no relationship advice tonight. Nothing has changed nor ever will,” said the Kingslayer defeatedly.  
Ailyn looked thoughtfully over at her son-in-law.  
“Your father wants you to have Casterly Rock does he not?” asked Ailyn pointedly.  
“Yes he does. I don’t want it,” snapped the disobedient son.  
“True but there is something you want as well. Keep that in mind before you speak with him again. And we never had this conversation,” warned Lady Ailyn giving him a serious look.  
Ser Jaime’s eyes sharpened as he thought about what Ailyn was suggesting.  
“What conversation?” he asked with mock obliviousness after a pause.  
Ailyn smiled and moved away, hoping that Ser Jaime would keep his word. Lady Ailyn went to Lord Tywin and politely stole him away for another dance. On their way to the floor, Ailyn saw Prince Khersian speaking with Cersei. He looked entranced while she was barely keeping the disdain from her gaze; but she was listening to him.  
Lord and Lady Lannister drew close and began to dance.  
“Thank you for interrupting. My patience was wearing thin. I’ve had nearly all the family and nobility I can stand for an evening,” growled Lord Tywin.  
“Then perhaps it is time for us to leave,” suggested Ailyn softly with a devious gleam in her eye.  
The intensity of Lord Tywin’s gaze strongly suggested that he was considering throwing her over his shoulder and heading for the nearest door.  
Only Ailyn’s insistence that they not cause a scene kept her lord husband from making off with her. They finished the dance and then rapidly moved back into the crowd.  
“We should say goodbye to a few people instead of just sneaking off,” requested Lady Ailyn, looking around for her father and Mardyn. She spotted her father a few yards off and got his attention. Ser Kevan and Lady Genna appeared near Lord Tywin as Lord Silvyn walked up to them.  
Ailyn embraced her father lovingly. Then, Lord Tywin and Lord Silvyn shook hands while Ailyn hugged Lady Genna and Ser Kevan.  
“Oi, when’s the bedding?” shouted a drunken southern lord several yards away who had apparently not gotten the message that there would be no bedding.  
Lady Ailyn blushed and then put her hand on Lord Tywin’s arm to keep him from murdering the man with his bare hands.  
Suddenly, someone punched the man squarely on the jaw, knocking him unceremoniously to the floor.  
Amid several gasps and shouts from nearby courtiers, the crowd parted a little revealing Ailyn’s uncle, Ser Garrick, standing over the unconscious lord. His face was as red as his hair and he was swaying slightly on his feet. He raised his goblet and said in a surprisingly steady baritone, “A toast to the Lord Hand and his Lady.”  
A loud round of “Hear, hear,” echoed around them and Lady Ailyn curtseyed politely and Lord Tywin bowed stiffly.  
Ailyn smiled happily up at Lord Tywin and nodded toward the door. Lord Tywin was still a little displeased over the outburst but he pushed it aside as he threaded Lady Ailyn’s hand through his arm.  
“Please don’t kill him. He was drunk,” said Ailyn quietly, as they began to move away.  
“I won’t kill him but he will be made aware of his mistake,” growled Lord Tywin as they stepped into the hall.  
“Other than Cersei and the drunk just now, are you pleased with how the day has gone?” asked Ailyn as they began to ascend the steps to their room.  
“Very much so. Was it what you wanted?” asked Tywin, looking over at her.  
Ailyn nodded and pressed his arm.  
‘I am very happy, Tywin, and perhaps just a little fuzzy with wine,” murmured Ailyn contentedly.  
She saw Lord Tywin’s mouth quirk into a predatory smile.  
They rounded the corner to their room and Lord Tywin nearly missed a step as Ser Kevan appeared at the end of the hall walking in the same direction.  
“Kevan, what…?” began Lord Tywin in confusion as his brother came to a stop before their doors.  
“He is here at my request Tywin. I asked him to keep you occupied for a few moments while I get ready,” explained Ailyn turning to Lord Tywin.  
Tywin frowned at her in confusion.  
“I have one last gift for you,” whispered Ailyn slyly and she reached up and kissed away the rest of Lord Tywin’s questions.  
Ailyn thanked Ser Kevan, who looked happy and a little embarrassed and slipped into the wedding chamber.


	32. The Lion Sleeps

“Din, Gana, quick!” whispered Lady Ailyn loudly as she shut the door to their wedding chamber and then reached up to pull pins out of her hair.  
Her maids instantly appeared from a side door, Din cradling Ailyn’s gift to Tywin in her arms. It was a golden dressing gown, nearly sheer, made of a curious stretchy fabric that moved with her easily. There was a long slit up one leg to nearly the top of her thigh and a very low neckline. Ailyn had had it made separately from the larger dress order so Tywin would not see a bill for it.  
Gana slipped off Ailyn’s necklace and then hurriedly began to undo the back of the wedding dress.  
“Did you manage to see any of the ceremony?” asked Ailyn breathlessly, still pulling out pins.  
“Why was Lord Tywin frowning in the beginning?” asked Gana, unlacing her dress.  
“Because his jealous monster of a daughter wore his dead wife’s dress to his wedding,” growled Ailyn, her cheeks flushing again at the memory.  
“That’s terrible,” breathed Gana sympathetically. “I hope you gave her a piece of your mind.”  
“I did and I am not yet finished,” vowed Ailyn, as she handed a large bunch of pins to Din, who had lain the dressing gown on a nearby chair.  
Ailyn wriggled out of her wedding dress and Din went to go hang it up behind a screen while Gana began unlacing the stays in Ailyn’s corset.  
“The rest of the ceremony went well. I had a wonderful time the rest of the evening although these slippers are pinching my toes,” muttered Ailyn kicking them off.  
Gana got her corset open and pulled it down over Ailyn’s hips and then down to the floor. Ailyn stepped out of it and then bent down herself to pull off her under dress. Her skin prickled at her sudden nakedness. She removed her small clothes and Gana took the clothing over behind a nearby screen so it would be out of the way.  
“Is he outside the door?” whispered Gana, glancing at it furtively.  
“Yes. Kevan is with him to keep him from barging in,” replied Ailyn shaking out her long hair so it fell in waves around her shoulders.  
Din brought over the golden dressing gown and helped Ailyn slip it on. While she was adjusting it, Gana dabbed a little more perfume on her neck, chest and arms then bent down a rubbed a little on Ailyn’s inner thighs.  
“Thank you both,” breathed Ailyn, a little flushed.  
Both girls nodded, smiling and then dashed from the room so Ailyn could be with Tywin.  
Ailyn fluffed her hair and smoothed down her dressing gown, trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart.   
“Come!” she called, clasping her hands before her.  
The door opened almost instantly. Lord Tywin stepped in, holding his crimson brocade tunic over one arm, turned and shut the door before looking at Ailyn. As he focused on her, she heard the breath go from his lungs as his tunic slipped to the ground. His pale eyes went wide and he simply stood there, staring at her in wonder.  
Ailyn smiled affectionately at him.  
“Do you like it?” she whispered, taking measured steps toward him. “I had it made for you.”  
“Ailyn,” was all he could get out before words failed him, his eyes roving down her body.  
She stopped in front of him and waited, breathless with anticipation for whatever was to come next.  
From the way he had been looking at her during the feast, Ailyn was expecting him to grab her and drag her to the bed but he wasn’t moving. Finally, after he had gotten his breath back, he reached out and cupped her face, almost reverently in his hands and looked into her eyes.  
“I…” he began to say softly but the rest of the words died in his throat.  
Ailyn smiled at him and leaned into his warmth, resting her hands on his chest to encourage him.  
Instead, Lord Tywin brought her face up to his and kissed her with a tenderness he never had before, trying to tell her with his lips what his tongue could not. Ailyn felt her throat constrict a little and kissed him back with equal tenderness.  
Finally, Lord Tywin moved her head back to end the kiss so he could look at her. Ailyn blinked wetly up at him and cupped his cheek with one hand. She could only nod, having difficulty speaking herself and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him fiercely and felt him curl his arms around her, pressing her closer into him. He made a brief noise as her body pressed up against his.  
“You are wearing…too much…clothing,” she breathed in between kisses.  
In reply, Lord Tywin slid his hands down her sides, over her butt and gripped the back of her thighs, bending into her slightly. He stopped kissing her long enough to heave her up, spreading her legs so she could wrap them around his waist. Ailyn gasped, her arms still around his neck for balance, as the tender flesh between her legs rubbed against the rough lacing of his breeches. She kissed his cheek, jaw and neck as he moved with purpose over to the bed.  
When he reached it, he bent forward, letting go of Ailyn’s legs so he could brace himself on the bed. Ailyn cried out in surprise as she fell back with him into the bedding and reveled in the sudden weight of him resting on her. But he braced his arms on either side of her and lifted himself up slightly. Ailyn smiled at him and Lord Tywin glanced to the side, lightly slapping one of her thighs, both of which were still wrapped tightly around him.  
“Let go,” he whispered with his usual half smile.  
Ailyn obediently uncurled her legs from him and pushed herself up onto her knees as Lord Tywin stood up. His hands went immediately to his laces but she slapped his hands away and began pulling at them herself.  
“Take your shirt off,” she demanded breathlessly.   
Lord Tywin paused for the briefest of moments and then tugged his white shirt off over his head, ruffling his thin golden hair. Ailyn glanced up at him and grinned. Tywin Lannister didn’t look nearly as intimidating with disheveled hair. But she stopped opening his laces as he kissed the smile from her face. Lord Tywin pushed her hands away.  
“On your back,” he commanded, wrenching his laces open.  
Lady Ailyn sat back and then scooted back farther onto the bed, reclining on her elbows. She bent one knee up and kept the other flat so her dressing gown still hid her center from his eyes. Lord Tywin hadn’t bothered to remove his black boots and once his laces were undone, he only shoved his breeches down far enough to free himself. Ailyn only got the briefest of glimpses of his manhood before he was on top of her, pulling aside the golden fabric and resting his bare skin against hers. She lay back and wrapped her arms around him, her breathing as uneven as his own. Lord Tywin braced himself on his forearms and bent his head down to bite her bottom lip, tugging on it gently. Ailyn’s back arched slightly and she cried out as Tywin pressed into her, not roughly but steadily until his hips rested on hers. Tywin groaned sharply into her neck as the sensation threatened to overwhelm him.  
“Don’t move,” he managed to growl, tensing.  
Ailyn tried her best to remain still while she adjusted to the feeling of him inside her. It had been years for her and the gods had not skimped when they made Tywin Lannister so she tried to relax as she felt herself stretching to accommodate him. Both struggled to slow their breathing and the only movement Ailyn made was to move her hands from his hips to his back and the back of his neck.  
After a moment, Lord Tywin slowly moved out and then slid back in, pushing another soft cry from Ailyn’s throat. She tilted her hips and curled her legs around his waist urging him in farther. He groaned, clutching at the bedding on either side of Ailyn. He moved slowly at first, finding a rhythm and when Ailyn began moving with him, encouraging him, Tywin let the reins on his control slip a little and made love to her in earnest. Ailyn was vaguely aware of the sounds she was making as she clawed at his back. She angled her hips so he rubbed against her just where she needed him to.   
“Tywin!” Ailyn gasped out his name as he brought her to the edge.  
She let out a few more shuddering cries into his chest as Tywin pushed through her end to find his own. The hoarse cry that ripped from his throat as he released sounded strangled, as though he was still trying to stay in control. She held him as tightly as she could as he trembled in her arms, trying to catch his breath. After a moment, Ailyn went limp beneath him, lost in a warm haze of pleasure, her legs slid off him and her arms flopped uselessly onto the bed. With an effort, Lord Tywin lifted himself off of her, drawing a soft noise from her as he left. He moved away from the bed and Ailyn was dimly aware of him shutting the door to the privy. She lay there for a while, then gathered the strength to sit up. Ailyn pushed herself off the bed and stood on shaky legs as she cleaned the mess from between her legs with a cloth. When she had cleaned herself as well as she could, she dropped the soiled rag and tugged off her golden gown which was still in one piece. Secretly, Ailyn was relieved that he hadn’t tried to tear it off of her. Ailyn quickly gulped down some water from a glass near the bed. Then, she pulled back the bedding and lay down on her stomach, pulling a sheet and a blanket midway up her back. She turned her head to face his side and tried not to fall asleep.  
Her eyes slid closed of their own accord and Ailyn dozed for a short while until Lord Tywin joined her. She felt the mattress give under his sudden weight and blinked sleepily at him as he settled under the covers as she had.  
Lord Tywin’s usually sharp eyes were sleepy and unfocused as he settled in next to her. He slid a warm palm up her back and then pulled the blanket farther up to her shoulders. Ailyn smiled at him and holding the bedding to her chest, she moved over and nestled into the hollow of his shoulder. He seemed surprised at her familiarity but quickly curled one long arm around her and rested his other hand over hers on his chest. She lazily slid one leg over his to make herself more comfortable, noting the he had also removed all his clothing. Ailyn listened to the steady beating of his heart and thought about how happy she was.  
“Ailyn?” whispered Lord Tywin above her head.  
“Mmhmm?” was her fuzzy reply.  
“I didn’t…hurt you, did I?”  
Ailyn smiled to herself.  
“No, you didn’t. I’m not that fragile,” she assured him, clasping his hand.  
“Good. I only ask because you were making a great deal of noise…”   
“Sorry. I am not a quiet lover,” admitted Ailyn, blushing a little.  
“I don’t mind,” replied Tywin, rubbing her back.  
They lay in silence for a time, just enjoying their closeness.  
Ailyn asked him a question after a while but Lord Tywin did not reply. Ailyn picked her head up off his chest and looked up at him. Her lion had fallen asleep, his head leaning to the side. A smile tugged at the side of Ailyn’s mouth as she watched him sleep. She was pleased that he felt comfortable enough already to fall asleep with her in his arms. Although, she had noticed how tired he had looked in the days leading up to the wedding; perhaps exhaustion was taking its toll on him as well.   
Instead of waking him, Ailyn took the opportunity to simply look at him. Very, very lightly, she traced some of the white scars on his chest from past battles. There was one near his throat that must have nearly claimed his life. Ailyn noted that the wound he had sustained in Harrenhal that she had treated had healed almost perfectly. His most recent wound on his lower abdomen was jagged and red. Ailyn frowned and gently touched its edge.  
Whether from pain or surprise, Lord Tywin snapped awake and clutched her wrist. She jumped at his sudden movement.  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ailyn apologized as he focused on her and released her wrist.  
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” muttered Lord Tywin, mildly annoyed with himself.  
“We are both tired,” conceded Ailyn, gently brushing his cheek with her hand.  
“Does that hurt?” she asked, inclining her head toward his wounded side.  
“No. It aches occasionally,” admitted Tywin.  
Ailyn made a thoughtful noise.  
“You have me at a disadvantage, my lady. You’ve been looking at my chest for a while now; I think it only fair that I be allowed the same privilege,” murmured Tywin, arching an eyebrow at her.  
Ailyn grinned and moved over so she could lie on her back, the blanket still covering her. She let her arms rest at her side and watched him. Tywin rolled onto his side facing her and, bracing himself on the bed so he could lean over her, bent down and kissed her. This time, she bit his lip and relished the rumbling growl from his throat.   
She was expecting him to wrench the blanket down to her knees and stare but he surprised her again with gentle kisses on her lips, cheek then down her throat to her collarbones. He shifted his weight back onto his side and clasped the blanket drawing it very slowly down to her hips. Ailyn gasped softly at her exposure but Tywin didn’t raise his head. He continued kissing her chest, cupping her breast in his hand and biting her nipple. She cried out breathlessly as he turned his attention to her other breast. Eventually, he made his way over her stomach to her navel. He lifted his head then to look at her, his eyes finally reaching her face. She watched his hand go for the blanket again and made a decision.  
Ailyn suddenly grabbed his wrist and hooked her leg over his hip, rolling him onto his back. He was so surprised that he offered no resistance. She straddled his hips and smiled down at him wickedly, her wild hair framing her face. Now, Lord Tywin’s attention was riveted. Ailyn leaned down and braced her hands on either side of his shoulders, lowering herself enough so her breasts brushed his chest. A dangerous look filled Lord Tywin’s eyes.  
She moved her head so she was close to his ear and whispered, “I like to be on top too.”

 

Author’s note: I’d like to give them a little privacy so please use your amazing imaginations and assume that they ‘enjoyed each other’s company’ a few more times that night. Ahem, moving on…


	33. Settling In

Lady Ailyn stretched slowly as she started to wake up, enjoying how comfortable she felt. It was light in the room but the curtains were still drawn around the bed, keeping her in darkness. A blush bloomed on her cheeks as she thought about the previous evening and she rolled over to wake her new husband.   
But Lord Tywin was not in bed beside her. The bedding was tousled and dent still remained in his pillow but the man himself was nowhere to be found. Her face fell as she realized she had been looking forward to the morning after almost as much as the preceding evening. It had taken several days for Ailyn and Lord Darren to fully get out of bed, get dressed and start interacting with the world around them again when they were first wed.   
AIlyn shook her head, annoyed with herself. Lord Tywin was not Lord Darren and this marriage would not be like the one she had had with him. She pulled the curtain back on her side and grabbed a robe from the chair nearby. Gana was just coming in with a breakfast tray to wake her and smiled widely when she saw her mistress.  
“Good morning, my lady. I trust you slept…some?” inquired Gana with a delicate smirk.  
“Yes, some,” agreed AIlyn with a smile. “When did Lord Tywin rise this morning, do you know?”  
“I believe his steward came in shortly after dawn. You didn’t hear him leave?” asked Gana as Ailyn sat down to breakfast.  
AIlyn shook her head.  
“No, if I had been awake, I would have stopped him from leaving me.”  
“I’m sure he was trying to be kind by letting you sleep in,” offered Gana, seeing Ailyn’s distress.  
“I know. Father doesn’t sleep very much anymore. Perhaps Lord Tywin is the same way,” reasoned Ailyn in between bites.  
“Do you have plans to see him today?” asked Gana, going over to Ailyn’s new wardrobe.  
“We are having dinner together. I should spend time with Mardyn. He and my father will be leaving soon.”  
“Which dress would you like to wear?” asked Gana, holding the wardrobe open.  
“I have never had so many choices before. Perhaps today it would be fitting to wear the red one,” decided Ailyn, rising and running her hand along the smooth crimson fabric.  
Din poked her head in through the side door and said in her gentle, whispering voice that Ailyn’s bath was prepared.  
Both her maids helped her bathe, scrubbing away the aftermath of last night’s passion.  
“Are these your only love marks?” asked Gana, sounding a little disappointed, looking at the red fingerprints on her mistress’ hips.  
“Gana! I tried not to let his mouth linger in any one place too long. Lord Tywin, on the other hand, has a large collection of nail marks down his back,” admitted Ailyn, as she leaned her head back so Din could rinse out the soap from her hair.  
She finished her bath and toweled her own hair dry. The crimson dress she had picked out was without a pattern. The red fabric went up as high as the top of her corset, forming the bodice and the full skirt. A soft, flesh colored fabric covered the rest of her chest and the edges of her shoulders with the long sleeves continuing down in crimson. Ailyn added her silver hawk pin to the top of the crimson bodice. A lion may have claimed her, but she would always be a hawk at heart.  
Ailyn found Mardyn having a wonderful time with one of her father’s knights. Both had wooden swords and the knight was explaining to Mardyn how to parry a thrust. Mardyn waved at her when she came in and she encouraged him to continue, sitting down to watch him. He was learning fast; already moving with more confidence than she had seen him do the last time she had watched him practice. She watched him contentedly for an hour or so before there was a summons for her.  
“I beg your pardon, my lady, but Lord Tywin wishes to see you,” said the Lannister guard, bowing low to her.  
“Certainly,” replied Lady Ailyn, turning her steps toward the Tower of the Hand.  
As she neared his door, sounds of a loud argument reached her ears. The guards outside the door to his chambers were glancing at each other nervously as she approached. She recognized Lord Tywin’s angry bellow; he was arguing with a woman. And there was only one woman in King’s Landing who would dare raise her voice to the Hand of the King.  
Lady Ailyn went to the door and pulled it open, stepping inside before the guards could tell her to wait.  
“I’m your daughter! How dare you…” snarled Cersei but her father overrode her.  
“You will do as I command, Cersei!” growled Lord Tywin, advancing on her.  
Lady Ailyn rounded the corner of his room and paused in the doorway.  
“We don’t need this alliance. You are sending me away because I remind you too much of mother!” cried Cersei viciously, jutting her chin out in childish defiance.  
Lord Tywin clenched his jaw and drew back his hand to strike her.  
“Tywin!” cried Ailyn, moving into the room a few paces with her hand out.  
Cersei jerked her head back instinctively and then gaped at her father in shock.  
Tywin looked at Ailyn and then back at his daughter, lowering his hand, his pale eyes still fiercely angry. Cersei glanced from Ailyn to her father, her own eyes going cold with hatred.  
“You are nothing like your mother. Get out,” snapped Lord Tywin at his daughter.  
A soft sound of pain escaped Cersei, as though he had physically hit her, her mouth twisting at her father’s words. She stared almost unseeingly at her father for another few beats and then turned on her heel and stalked past Lady Ailyn if she weren’t even there. Ailyn went to Lord Tywin who was flexing the fingers of his right hand and looking at the ground, his jaw clenched.  
Ailyn came to stand before him and gently clasped his hand in hers.   
His green eyes met her grey ones.  
“She’s your daughter; even if she deserves it, you shouldn’t hit her,” said Lady Ailyn quietly, hoping her words wouldn’t anger her lord further.  
“She will do her duty and be gone from here,” said Lord Tywin in a broken sounding tone.  
Ailyn brought his hand up and kissed his fingers.  
“I am sorry that she is causing you pain. She will not let you have peace while she has none of her own,” reasoned Ailyn quietly.  
“After what she did on our wedding day, you still care if she is happy?” asked Lord Tywin, looking at her searchingly.  
“She is your daughter. For your sake, I will wish her well. I would rather do so from a great distance, however,” admitted Ailyn.  
“I will arrange matters as quickly as I can,” agreed Lord Tywin, gently taking his hand out from Ailyn’s and moving back over to his desk.  
“You wanted to see me about something?” inquired Ailyn softly.  
Lord Tywin looked at her nonplussed for a moment, Cersei’s interruption having derailed his thoughts.  
“Yes. I have a report from one of my trade overseers that one of my ships has been skimming the profits off his last few shipments between here and the Free Cities. The Winking Gale is the name of the ship,” Lord Tywin informed her.  
“That ship runs between Willow Glen and King’s Landing before going across the Narrow Sea,” Ailyn said slowly, looking at Lord Tywin. “He has stolen from both of us.”  
Lord Tywin nodded.  
“I have decided how I am going to deal with the man but I am interested in your opinion,” said the Hand of the King watching her.  
Ailyn looked at him for a moment and then down at the scattering of papers on his desk, thinking.  
“House Greystone would imprison him, fine him and confiscate his ship but ultimately forgive his transgression provided it was the first occurrence. However, I am aware that House Lannister pays their debts,” murmured Lady Ailyn.  
She met her lion’s keen eyes.  
“This is one of the first cases of treachery since the ending of the war and since your marriage. I suggest you do what you have already decided on, my lord,” Ailyn said, coming close to him and cupping his cheek. “I will not have anyone say that I have made you weak. Perhaps with a firm first example, you will not have to deal as sharply with many others.”  
Lord Tywin’s mouth quirked up into his half smile against her hand. He drew her to him and kissed her, pleased with her answer.  
When he let go of her, he asked quietly, “Did you sleep well?”  
Ailyn nodded with a smile. “Did you? You were gone when I woke this morning.”  
“I rise early every day,” said Lord Tywin, as if this day were no different than any other.  
“Perhaps, once in a while, you could stay long enough so that we might spend a little time in the morning together?” suggested Ailyn, straightening the collar on his doublet a little.  
A softer look filled the lion’s eyes.  
“Of course.”  
Ailyn smiled at him and nodded to his desk.  
“I’ll see you at dinner.”   
Lord Tywin raised her hand to his lips and bid her farewell until the evening.

Dinner ended abruptly before the dessert course, with Ailyn dismissing the wait staff as she slid into Lord Tywin’s lap. Between kisses, he managed to wrench open the front of her dress, admiring her new corset which barely covered her breasts. With a little management, Ailyn levered herself out of his lap and up onto the edge of the table. Lord Tywin rose up with her, sweeping the table in front of him clear and bending over her as she leaned back.  
When their passion was spent, Tywin fell back into his chair to catch his breath, his thinning golden hair a little askew. Ailyn lay unmoving on the table, fighting to take deep breaths as her corset restrained her. After a moment, she propped herself up on her elbows to look at Lord Tywin. One arm was crossed over his stomach, his brow knitted together in discomfort.  
“Are you unwell, Tywin?” she whispered, as her own stomach made its displeasure known.  
He cleared his throat and slowly stood up, helping her sit up on the table.  
“Perhaps next time, we should eat afterwards,” suggested the Lord of Casterly Rock as his belly rumbled.  
Ailyn smiled and then quickly raised her hand to her mouth to stifle an unladylike burp.  
“I second that.”  
They went to the bed, shedding clothing on their way and lay down next to each other as their constitutions recovered.

The next few days passed more quickly than Ailyn wanted them to. Cersei did not make an appearance again although Ailyn saw her pacing along the palace walls one day, looking out at the sea. She seemed agitated but Ailyn did not stop to speak to her. Lady Genna left King’s Landing much to Ailyn’s disappointment but she had her own life and husband to return to as well. Lady Ailyn divided her time between her brother, father and uncle during the day and Tywin at night. It did not come as a surprise to her that Tywin preferred to be in control during lovemaking although when she occasionally asserted herself, he did not deter her.  
Soon, Ailyn was standing on the docks beside Lord Tywin waving to her father, uncle and little brother as they sailed away on her father’s ship. Ailyn was doing her best to hold back her tears but a few escaped down her cheeks despite her best efforts. Lord Tywin touched her hand lightly and then threaded it through his arm so they could walk back to the palace.  
As they were walking, Ailyn glanced around at the people watching them. Most did not have the same air of deadly intent that she had noticed a month ago but they were still far from clean or contented.  
“My lord, if I may ask, what is being done within the city to help those who have migrated here during the fighting?” Ailyn inquired of the Hand of the King who was walking stoically at her side.  
“With the fleet needing to be rebuilt, there is more work available for those who are able. The food the Tyrells brought with them is being carefully distributed. From what Baelish tells me, Maergery is assisting with the shelters for orphans and the homeless,” Lord Tywin listed off as they ascended the steps to the palace.  
“If I were to have a few suggestions about more that could be done for the city, I should bring them to you?” asked Ailyn, thinking aloud.  
“Of course you may. The city should prosper now that the war is over.”  
Ailyn smiled at him.  
“There is always more to be done. You appear to be more focused on protecting the city from without; it also needs to heal from within,” Ailyn said, thinking back to the changes she had thought of proposing to her father for Willow Glen and filtering out ones that could be applicable to King’s Landing as well.  
“I will tell Lord Varys to bring you some maps of the city. He will be able to provide you with any information you should require,” suggested Lord Tywin.  
Ailyn smiled happily at him.  
“Thank you for letting me try to help you,” she said gratefully.  
“Your help is one of the many reasons I asked you to stay,” Lord Tywin reminded her kindly as they returned to their chambers.  
Tywin Lannister returned to his office in the Small Council chamber shortly after and worked steadily until dark. The Greyjoys were making themselves a nuisance. Apparently, once they were done squabbling amongst themselves, their leader was going to have a bone to pick with the lions and roses who thought they had a right to rule over the krakens. He ate a hurried dinner at his desk and then, when his candles were starting to burn low, he left for the night.  
Ailyn had fallen asleep in a chair by the fire, an open book in her lap. Tywin gently woke her and she greeted him with a sleepy kiss, closing her book. She helped him disrobe and they got into bed, speaking softly for a while before each drifted off to sleep. 

Ailyn was walking through the gardens on her way to lunch with Queen Maergery the next day when she was detained.  
“Ah, Lady Ailyn, good morning,” drawled a voice behind her.  
Ailyn stopped and turned to face the speaker.  
Ser Jaime was striding toward her, looking as nonchalant as possible.  
“Good morning, Ser Jaime,” returned Ailyn politely watching him come toward her.  
When he reached her, he paused and said very quietly, “I am going to speak with my father tomorrow at midday and I would prefer it if you were present. Can you make some excuse to be there?”  
“Of course, I will be there if you wish,” agreed Ailyn uncertainly.  
“Thank you,” said Ser Jaime and began to walk by her without any other explanation.  
“But why do you wish me there?” demanded Ailyn of his retreating figure.  
Ser Jaime did not reply and gave no sign that he had heard her; he just continued walking purposely away.  
Ailyn frowned at him and a mild sense of foreboding gnawed at her but she continued on to Maergery’s garden.  
Ailyn and Maergery passed an agreeable lunch, discussing their husbands and their own ideas about ways to improve the quality of life for those in King’s Landing. They were just finishing the fruit plate when a guard informed Lady Ailyn that Lord Tywin wished to see her.  
“Forgive me, Maergery. I can come see you tomorrow and we can continue our discussion,” offered Lady Ailyn rising.  
Ailyn quickly climbed the familiar steps to the Tower of the Hand.  
“Perhaps I should make a habit of stopping by your chambers every day before carrying on with my plans to save time,” said Ailyn with a smile, coming into his chamber.  
Tywin’s eyes lit up as he looked at her and he moved away from his desk to come to her.  
“What state matter needs our attention today?” asked Ailyn playfully.  
Lord Tywin didn’t answer her but pulled her to him and kissed her fiercely. Although surprised, Ailyn responded to his need instantly, clinging to him just as tightly. When he relented, she stayed in his arms, looking up at him, a silent question in her eyes. Lord Tywin disengaged her arms from around his middle and made a point of standing back from her, something like embarrassment creeping over his countenance.  
“I just…wanted you,” admitted Lord Tywin, meeting her eyes uncertainly as though afraid she would judge him.  
A sly look filled Lady Ailyn’s eyes as she closed the distance between then once more.  
“I did not come all the way from Lady Maergery’s garden just for a kiss, my lord,” said Ailyn suggestively, her hands going for his belt. 

Later that night as Ailyn and Tywin were preparing for bed, Ailyn gently asked about Cersei.  
“I will speak with her again tomorrow,” replied Lord Tywin, getting into bed and holding the covers back for Ailyn to slide in beside him.  
“Try to keep your temper. Remember, she inherited her own from you,” cautioned Ailyn, pulling the bedding up and nestling herself against Lord Tywin’s chest.  
Lord Tywin made a noncommittal rumble as he put an arm around her and drifted off to sleep.

 

Author’s note: Sorry, this one is all over the place. Illness and car trouble do not make for a steady writing schedule. More to follow soon!


	34. Lost and Found

Lost and Found  
“Gone? What do you mean, gone?” demanded Lord Tywin of the nervous guard before him. He and Lady Ailyn had been on their way to the Small Council chamber when one of the palace guards stopped them.  
“The Queen Regent is not in her room, my Lord Hand and all her servants have been found dead,” continued the soldier, leaning back slightly from the growing intensity of the lion’s glare.  
Ailyn and Tywin looked at each other.  
“Find Ser Jaime and meet me at the Queen Regent’s chambers. Go!” barked Lord Tywin, turning on his heel. Ailyn moved to follow him.  
“Did you say something to her…?” Ailyn began to ask, trying to keep up with Lord Tywin long strides.  
“No, I have not had a chance to speak to her yet today,” answered Tywin Lannister.  
Ailyn walked at his side in concerned silence.  
When they reached Cersei’s chambers, the doors were ajar and two guards were standing at attention on either side. Tywin strode past them and pushed the doors open himself, Ailyn quick behind him.  
The room was in perfect order aside from the two dead servants near her table. They were crumpled on the floor, both stabbed in the chest.  
“Who was on guard duty outside my daughter’s chambers last night?” asked Lord Tywin of the assembled soldiers.  
“They are currently missing as well, my lord,” replied one of the men standing at attention.  
While Lord Tywin issued numerous orders, Lady Ailyn moved to speak with the guard standing nearest her.  
“Where are her hand maids?” asked Ailyn quietly.  
“Through there, my lady,” offered one of them, pointing to the closed servant’s entrance on the other side of Cersei’s bed.  
Ailyn went to the door and walked through it before the man could stop her. All three of Cersei’s hand maidens were lying on the floor, their eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling, their lips blue from lack of circulation. The remains of a meal sat on the table near where their bodies lay. Irrationally, Ailyn’s mind flew to Gana and Din and interchanged their bodies with those of the women lying dead before her. Lady Ailyn closed her eyes and shook the haunting mental image away in disgust.  
“Ailyn, you should not see such things,” said Lord Tywin quietly, coming up behind her and turning her towards him, away from the corpses.  
“I think they were poisoned,” she whispered, looking at the lion heads on the seam of his waistcoat.  
“Pycelle will find the cause of their death,” Lord Tywin assured her, leading her out of the room.  
“I have seen worse than that, Tywin, as you well know,” Ailyn reminded him in a stronger voice as they stepped out into the main room again.  
Lord Tywin looked at her but did not speak.  
She moved away from Tywin again as Lord Baelish and Lord Varys entered the chamber.  
Tywin began peppering them with questions while Ailyn went to Cersei’s wardrobe and gently pulled one of the doors partway open.  
“The Queen Regent has been kidnapped. I want the castle searched and everyone at the docks discretely questioned,” ordered Lord Tywin to his startled looking Small Council members.  
Maester Pycelle waddled in shortly thereafter and was sent to look at the dead hand maidens.  
Baelish and Varys hurried out to do their lord’s bidding and the guards were sent out as well.  
“Tywin,” said Ailyn softly, coming to stand beside him again, “Why do you believe she was kidnapped?”  
“Her servants are dead and she is missing. What other explanation is there?” he shot back, a trace of condescension in his tone.  
“If she were kidnapped, she would have put up a fight. There would be more disorder in the room than there is,” reasoned Ailyn carefully.  
Lord Tywin narrowed his eyes at her.  
“Perhaps she was unconscious when she was taken but if that were the case, then her kidnapper took great care to pack up all her dresses and jewels before he left,” added Ailyn, indicating the empty wardrobe.  
“What?”  
Lord Tywin strode to the wardrobe and yanked it open. He stood for a moment, staring blankly at it as Lady Ailyn came to stand with him.  
“I think she may have run away,” she supplied, looking at her lion with concern.  
“Lannisters don’t run,” he ground out, but the words were empty; a reactionary phrase, passed down through the generations.  
“We don’t know anything for certain. The truth may come to light after more people are questioned,” soothed Ailyn, putting her hand lightly on his arm.  
“Who killed her servants?” he asked in a hollow voice.  
Ailyn raised her eyebrows in surprise.  
“Tywin, you truly don’t know your daughter, if you don’t believe she is capable of this,” answered Lady Ailyn in a sad voice.  
“What’s going on?” said a voice near the doorway.  
Tywin and Ailyn turned around. Ser Jaime was standing just inside the door, his face bunched up in a frown.  
“Jaime, where is your sister?” demanded Lord Tywin Lannister, striding purposefully up to his eldest son.  
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her today,” Jaime replied, still frowning as his father came to a stop in front of him, bearing down on him.  
“Don’t lie to me,” growled the Lion of Casterly Rock. Ailyn and Ser Jaime both straightened slightly at the dangerous edge in Lord Tywin’s voice.  
“I’m not lying, father,” retorted Jaime defensively. “What…”  
“Her servants are dead and she is missing so I will ask one last time, where has she gone?” snarled Tywin angrily.  
“Cersei’s gone?” repeated Ser Jaime, the words slowly sinking in as he looked around the room. He moved away from Lord Tywin’s angry frame and glanced in at the dead hand maidens.  
“She didn’t tell me anything. If Cersei was planning something, she didn’t share it with me” asked Ser Jaime, running his hand through his hair.  
Lord Tywin gave his eldest son a hard, silent look until Ser Jaime grew uncomfortable.  
“Father, I swear it, I don’t know where she is,” insisted Tywin’s son, growing annoyed and anxious.  
“Her maids were poisoned, my lord hand. It will take a more careful examination to determine which poison was used,” offered Pycelle, coming slowly back into the room.  
Tywin was silent for a time, staring out Cersei’s balcony.  
“Did you give her anything recently which could have caused this?” he asked quietly.  
“No, my lord hand. Her Grace has not asked me for anything which could kill a person, let alone three,” the Maester assured the Hand.  
“Find the exact cause. Jaime, I want a list of all the ships that left the harbor last night and this morning. You will make discreet inquiries. I don’t want word of her disappearance made public before it needs to be,” ordered Lord Tywin.  
“What of Tommen?” asked Ailyn softly.  
Tywin looked at her and at Jaime and then replied, “I will speak with the King myself.”  
He strode from the room, still looking grim and disappointed.  
Ser Jaime looked at Lady Ailyn and then also turned on his heel to leave when Ailyn stopped him.  
“Ser Jaime, please, wait.”  
Jaime turned to stare at her, still a little dazed from the knowledge of his sister’s disappearance.  
“If Cersei left of her own free will, she may have left a message or a note,” suggested Ailyn quietly.  
Jaime’s green eyes flashed to Cersei’s empty desk and then back to Ailyn.  
“Is there some secret place she would have left a message for you,” prodded Ailyn, grasping at the idea.  
Jaime sighed and his eyes flicked involuntarily to one of Cersei’s wooden bed posts.  
“I will not say anything of this to Lord Tywin as long as you promise to tell him yourself if she has said anything concerning her future whereabouts,” said Lady Ailyn quietly.  
After a moment’s hesitation, Ser Jaime strode to the bedpost and slipped his hand into a notch on the side of the pillar and a small, empty space appeared next to his hand. He reached inside and pulled out a small square of paper. Ailyn waited patiently for him to unfold it with one hand and stood silently while he read the message.  
“She has left for good. She didn’t say where she went,” Jaime said in a hollow voice, handing the note to Ailyn and looking away.

Jaime,

By the time you find this, I will be gone. I realize that, no matter what I do, I will never please Father. I refuse to marry against my will again and this is the only way I can live my own life. I will never return. Please look after Tommen. I will love you always.

Cersei

“Are you going to tell Tywin about this note?” asked Ailyn, looking at the abandoned brother.  
“If I don’t, and he finds out about it, we will both be in a great deal of trouble. And he always finds out,” breathed Ser Jaime in a haunted voice.  
“This will hurt him,” murmured Ailyn, folding the note back up and handing it back to Ser Jaime.  
“Good.”  
Ser Jaime slipped the note into a pocket and began to walk towards the door.  
“Will you at least wait until the end of the day to give it to him?” pleaded Ailyn, taking a quick step after him.  
Ser Jaime paused and glanced back at her.  
“Fine.”  
And he strode off without another word or look.  
Ailyn took a deep breath and then turned her feet toward the Small Council room, hoping silently that her husband would not start another war over this incident.  
The rest of the day was exhausting. Cersei had covered her tracks well. Baelish and Varys brought back reports of no less than seven, tall blonde women boarding ships bound for ports in Westeros and across the Narrow Sea that had left in the small hours of the morning. Cersei’s two missing guards were found dead in a servant’s hallway halfway across the palace. Lord Tywin still maintained that she had been kidnapped in an effort to save the Lannister name from stain.  
Through all of this, Ailyn took up a seat at Lord Tywin’s side and did not leave all day, even after he told her to go. She said little and did not interrupt him but hoped her presence was providing him some sense of stability as his world tilted.   
She only stood up and intervened once. When Lord Tywin summoned King Tommen to the Small Council room and told him that his mother had disappeared, the boy began to cry. Tywin Lannister turned away coldly as the boy’s eyes filled with tears so Ailyn got up, dried his eyes and comforted him as best she could until Maergery arrived, carrying the King’s favorite kitten. She and Ailyn had a quick whispered conversation and then the Queen left with the King, assuring him that all would be well, knowing that it wouldn’t.   
When Jaime came to deliver Cersei’s message, Ailyn held her breath as Tywin read the small bit of paper.  
He crushed it in his fist and threw it into the fire, his face twisting with anger. He ordered Ser Jaime to leave which he did without protest.   
“Tywin, I…” began Ailyn softly, touching his arm but he jerked it away from her and went to his desk, sitting down heavily.  
“Go, Ailyn.” The defeat in his voice scared her more than his anger.  
Ailyn went to him, kissed the top of his head briefly and then obeyed his wishes, leaving him alone.  
The next few days did little to relieve the Hand of the King’s distress. Lord Baelish and Lord Varys were having difficulty tracing which blonde woman was Cersei. There were rumors that she had been spotted everywhere from Lys to Dorne. Lord Tywin grew quiet and anxious. Ailyn did what she could to comfort him but he closed himself off to her; saying little and offering less affection than he had since they had been married.   
She went with him to the Small Council chamber everyday and stayed with him for a few hours since he never offered any objection to her doing so. One morning, Ailyn was getting ready to leave when Ser Jaime strode in.  
“Jaime what is it? Do you have news of your sister?” asked Lord Tywin, glancing up at his son.  
“No. I am here to speak about another matter,” replied Ser Jaime.  
“Be brief.”  
In reply, Ser Jaime undid the clasp holding his sword at his side. He removed it, sheath and all from his belt and set it down on the edge of Lord Tywin’s desk.  
The Hand of the King looked at the sword and then up at Ser Jaime.  
“I am resigning as Lord Commander of the King’s Guard and City Watch,” said Ser Jaime firmly, straightening his shoulders seemingly in preparation for his father’s response.  
“Resigning?” There was a heaviness in Lord Tywin’s tone.  
“Yes. I have no sword hand. I am not fit to defend anyone let alone the King. Cersei dismissed Ser Barristan. Now you may dismiss me and replace me with someone who is fit to serve,” explained Ser Jaime, not meeting his father’s gaze but speaking straight ahead to the wall behind Lord Tywin.  
Lord Tywin sat back in his chair and put down his quill. Lady Ailyn stood at his side, looking between Lord Tywin and his heir.  
“Very well. This situation was inevitable if a little sooner than I anticipated. You are my heir; Casterly Rock is yours…” began Lord Tywin but Ser Jaime started shaking his head.  
“You know perfectly well I never wanted Casterly Rock. I still don’t. But I will assume the responsibilities on one condition,” argued Ser Jaime.  
Lord Tywin frowned.  
“You will do what is expected of you.”  
Ser Jaime took a deep breath, steeling himself.  
“There is only one way I will agree to take Casterly Rock; no other.”  
The Hand of the King narrowed his eyes.  
“And what is that?”  
“The choice of wife will be mine and mine alone.”  
“Out of the question.”  
The words were out of Tywin Lannister’s mouth almost the instant his son stopped speaking.  
“With your sister gone, it is more important than ever that you make the right match and I am not inclined to believe you can make that distinction on your own.”  
“Tywin, please…” Ailyn began softly but Lord Tywin waved her off.  
“That is the only condition under which I will be your heir. Take it or leave it,” resolved Ser Jaime, squaring his shoulders.  
Lord Tywin narrowed his eyes sharply and stood up.  
“Are you bargaining with me?” he demanded angrily.  
“No. I am telling you that you will only have what you want if I can have what I want,” retorted Ser Jaime.  
“And what is that?” snapped Lord Tywin.  
Ser Jaime paused and then said firmly, “Lady Brienne.”  
“That woman who’s been walking around like a man? She’s a disgrace to her house,” raged Tywin a vein standing out in his neck.  
“She saved my life. I will have no one but her. You have two days to make your decision,” replied Ser Jaime coldly.  
Lord Tywin’s angry silence and clenched fists were starting to make Ailyn nervous.  
“Leave us,” commanded Lord Tywin, turning on Ailyn before she could speak.  
Ailyn’s eyes went wide at his tone and she started moving away without thinking. She paused as she drew even with Ser Jaime and looked back and forth between both angry Lannisters.  
“Please remember that you are family,” she said, before turning and walking out. Ailyn waited outside the chamber door, listening. There was silence for a long time. And then the shouting started. Ailyn could only listen for a short while before she looked at the two nervous guards on either side of the door and entreated them not to let them kill each other.  
Ailyn left and went back to their chambers and paced around. After a few hours, she left to go visit Maergery and the King. She stayed with them for supper and no summons arrived for her.  
Lady Ailyn returned to the Hand’s chamber later that evening. Gana stepped out from the side door to greet her mistress.  
“Hello, Gana. Is Lord Tywin in yet?” asked Lady Ailyn glancing around the empty room, although there was a fire lit in the hearth.  
“He is on the balcony, my lady. He’s troubled,” replied Gana very softly, with a furtive glance at the curtained entry to the balcony.  
“He has had a difficult day. I’ll change in a little while,” Ailyn requested, moving to go out onto the balcony.  
Ailyn pushed aside the thin hangings and walked out into the cool night air. Lord Tywin was standing at the railing, his back rigid, hands clasped behind him at the waist, motionless. It was with some trepidation that Lady Ailyn approached her husband. She drew up to his side and looked up at him.  
He was staring out at the harbor, lost in thought, a troubled sadness in his eyes. Ailyn said his name softly and put her hand on his arm. He turned his head to look down at her.  
“Ailyn,” he said quietly, making no movement to greet her, the troubled look not leaving his face.  
Ailyn opened her mouth to speak but her lord spoke over her.  
“Ailyn, I’m going to ask you something and I want you to tell me the truth.”  
There was an emptiness in his voice that she hadn’t heard since the days of their first meeting.  
“Anything,” offered Ailyn, now worried herself.  
“Did you tell Jaime to do this?”  
It wasn’t quite an accusation but the question hurt her all the same.  
“Did I tell Jaime to disobey you and put your legacy in jeopardy? No, Tywin, I did nothing of the kind,” Ailyn replied, wounded.  
Tywin fixed her with his gaze, studying her, disbelieving.  
“It isn’t like my son to argue with me let alone use his rights as my heir to bargain for a wife of his choosing,” Tywin went on.  
Ailyn looked away from him before she spoke again.  
“I saw Ser Jaime speaking with Lady Brienne a few times. They looked happy in each other’s company. I urged him to make his feelings for her known but he told me he couldn’t, because he knew you would not approve,” answered Ailyn, looking back at Tywin.  
“Something clearly changed his mind,” retorted Tywin in a hard voice.  
“What are you accusing me of?” demanded Ailyn.  
“Putting ideas in his head that I dislike,” he shot back.  
Ailyn took a small step back from him but did not drop his gaze.  
“I think it is hard of you to arrange your children’s lives as you do when you yourself have never been put in that position,” she asserted.  
Lord Tywin narrowed his eyes at her but did not speak.  
“You married Lady Joanna because you chose to do so, no one to told you she was the woman you were required to spend the rest of your life with. You married for love and so did I. That is so very rare for people in our position. Why would you not want the same happiness for your son?” asked Lady Ailyn.  
“His union with Lady Brienne is not profitable; House Tarth has little to offer in the way of political or mercantile desirability,” replied Tywin Lannister coldly.  
Ailyn flinched.  
“So you would alienate your last remaining child just because he’s trying to live his own life…” Ailyn fought back but Lord Tywin raised a hand to stop her.  
“Enough. You will answer my question and then be silent,” growled Lord Tywin.  
Ailyn drew herself up.  
“No, Lord Tywin, I did not tell your son to disobey you but he is acting out of love, and I cannot find fault with that, whatever you may think of me,” said Lady Ailyn firmly. She held his angry glare for a moment and then turned away. She walked inside and he did not stop her. Ailyn silently changed into a night gown and then slipped into their cold bed as Gana blew out her candles and drew the curtain closed on Ailyn’s side. She lay awake, anxious and worried until she heard him come into the room. The sound of papers rustling on his desk drifted over to her and then he paced over to the fireplace. It grew quiet again for a long while and though she was anxious, Ailyn began to doze. She snapped awake again as she felt him get into the bed. Lord Tywin made no move or attempt to wake her; he rolled onto his side away from her, listening to her breathing long into the night before he drifted off.  
When Lady Ailyn awoke in the morning, his place was empty.  
Lord Tywin gave in to his son’s demand on the second day, knowing that Jaime taking Casterly Rock was the only way to secure his legacy. He did not offer his blessing to Jaime and did not speak to him after he had given his consent.  
That night, after not seeing him all day, Ailyn walked into their chamber to see Lord Tywin sitting on her side of the bed, his hands braced on either side of him, shoulders hunched, staring absently at the floor. It pained her to see him like this. Ailyn quickly went to him and stood before him, unsure what to say.  
Very slowly, he raised his head to meet her concerned gaze, as though the effort of lifting his head was all he could bear.   
“I’ve lost all my children.”  
His voice was flat, as though the sudden realization had crushed him. Lord Tywin dropped his head so he was looking straight ahead at Ailyn’s stomach. Almost mechanically, he reached out and clutched at the fabric of her dress near her waist, gripping it tightly and pulling her closer to him. Ailyn stepped forward and Lord Tywin Lannister pressed his face into her abdomen, taking shallow breaths while holding onto her dress like a drowning man.  
Ailyn let out a soft sound and bent down, running her fingers through his hair and letting her hand rest at the back of his head while protectively wrapping her other arm around his shoulders. She held him to her for a moment and then gently clasped his head in both hands, drawing his gaze up to hers.  
“Tywin, dearest, it isn’t like that.”  
Lady Ailyn let go of his head and carefully knelt down before him, his hands following her as far as they would go and then he rested them on his knees. She took his hands in hers and looked up at him.   
“I assume you aren’t too concerned about Tyrion anymore. And Cersei isn’t dead. Wherever she is, I am sure she is happy. And Jaime is doing what you want: he will marry and look after Casterly Rock. The Lannister line will be preserved through him and Lady Brienne,” summarized Ailyn gently.  
The sadness in Lord Tywin’s eyes did not lift as she spoke but some of the pain left his countenance.  
“And whatever you may have lost, you still have me,” Ailyn reminded him, kissing his hands.  
Lord Tywin clasped her hands in his suddenly, looking into her face earnestly.  
“Promise me you will never leave.”  
Ailyn smiled at him and stood up, Tywin rose up as well, still keeping hold of her hands.  
“I will be with you always,” Ailyn promised.  
Tywin opened his mouth to speak but his lips wouldn’t form the words. Instead, he crushed Ailyn to his chest and kissed her deeply. He broke the kiss abruptly and before she could get her breath back, he lifted her up, turned and laid her down on the bed. As he climbed on top of her, Ailyn hoped that soon he would be able to open up to her.  
In the few following days, he spoke to her a little more but his main consolation was in his work. He rose before her and came to bed after she had fallen asleep. They would share a meal or two and then he would go back to his desk and pull another sheet of parchment toward him.   
On the third night Ailyn went to bed alone, she lay awake for an hour or so before pulling the curtain aside and getting out of bed. She slipped on a robe and went out of the Hand’s chambers and headed to the Small Council room. The guard outside the door let her in, taking care not to look at her.  
She padded quietly into the room and paused in the doorway.  
Lord Tywin was seated at his desk, quill scratching over parchment, his candles burning low. He was intent on his work and didn’t notice her. Ailyn walked into the room and up to his desk. She stood before him, smiling affectionately.  
The quill paused on the page as Lord Tywin’s eyes flicked up to her waist and then up to her face. He glanced at his candles and then at the darkness outside his window.  
“It’s late,” whispered Ailyn.  
Tywin sighed, putting down the quill and rubbing his eyes.  
Ailyn walked around to his side of the desk and placed her hand gently over his.  
“Come to bed. The Seven Kingdoms will be here tomorrow,” she said softly.  
“Are you so sure of that?” he asked, looking at the letter in front of him.  
“Yes. Because you’ll be here,” replied Ailyn.  
Lord Tywin looked up at her, a half smile quirking his mouth.  
She stood back to let him rise and walked with him the length of the room.  
“Did you come here in that?” he asked, looking down her barely clad figure.  
“I could have walked here naked and it wouldn’t have mattered. All your guards are afraid to look at me,” said Ailyn shaking her head.  
Her answer seemed to please him.  
“Good.”   
She walked with her hand through his arm back to their chambers. Once inside, he turned to her and cupped her face in his hands.  
“Ailyn, I’ve been cold to you these past few days. I shouldn’t…I didn’t…” Lord Tywin stopped, at a loss for how to say what he wanted.  
Ailyn hushed him and wrapped her arms around him.  
“I’ve missed you.”  
Tywin brought her face up to his and kissed her for a long moment.  
“You can start making it up to me now,” she whispered smiling, when he let her draw breath.  
Lord Tywin almost smiled at her for the second time that night.  
“I need to wash and then I will, my lady.”  
Ailyn smiled at his retreating figure and then moved to dampen down the fire, bending down to close the grating. As Ailyn was walking back over to the bed, she heard a strange metallic ‘click’ behind her which made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She turned around very slowly and then froze, seeing only the loaded crossbow and the baleful eyes behind it.  
“Tyrion,” she breathed.

 

Author’s note: I can’t say with any certainty that running away is something Cersei has in her make up to do. I want to justify it by saying that she found out Jaime wanted to marry Brienne thus compounding the feeling that she had lost the love of all the important men in her life and leaving to seek it elsewhere. Though, unlike Ailyn, I can’t say that I wish her well.


	35. A Shot in the Dark

Lost and Found  
“Gone? What do you mean, gone?” demanded Lord Tywin of the nervous guard before him. He and Lady Ailyn had been on their way to the Small Council chamber when one of the palace guards stopped them.  
“The Queen Regent is not in her room, my Lord Hand and all her servants have been found dead,” continued the soldier, leaning back slightly from the growing intensity of the lion’s glare.  
Ailyn and Tywin looked at each other.  
“Find Ser Jaime and meet me at the Queen Regent’s chambers. Go!” barked Lord Tywin, turning on his heel. Ailyn moved to follow him.  
“Did you say something to her…?” Ailyn began to ask, trying to keep up with Lord Tywin long strides.  
“No, I have not had a chance to speak to her yet today,” answered Tywin Lannister.  
Ailyn walked at his side in concerned silence.  
When they reached Cersei’s chambers, the doors were ajar and two guards were standing at attention on either side. Tywin strode past them and pushed the doors open himself, Ailyn quick behind him.  
The room was in perfect order aside from the two dead servants near her table. They were crumpled on the floor, both stabbed in the chest.  
“Who was on guard duty outside my daughter’s chambers last night?” asked Lord Tywin of the assembled soldiers.  
“They are currently missing as well, my lord,” replied one of the men standing at attention.  
While Lord Tywin issued numerous orders, Lady Ailyn moved to speak with the guard standing nearest her.  
“Where are her hand maids?” asked Ailyn quietly.  
“Through there, my lady,” offered one of them, pointing to the closed servant’s entrance on the other side of Cersei’s bed.  
Ailyn went to the door and walked through it before the man could stop her. All three of Cersei’s hand maidens were lying on the floor, their eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling, their lips blue from lack of circulation. The remains of a meal sat on the table near where their bodies lay. Irrationally, Ailyn’s mind flew to Gana and Din and interchanged their bodies with those of the women lying dead before her. Lady Ailyn closed her eyes and shook the haunting mental image away in disgust.  
“Ailyn, you should not see such things,” said Lord Tywin quietly, coming up behind her and turning her towards him, away from the corpses.  
“I think they were poisoned,” she whispered, looking at the lion heads on the seam of his waistcoat.  
“Pycelle will find the cause of their death,” Lord Tywin assured her, leading her out of the room.  
“I have seen worse than that, Tywin, as you well know,” Ailyn reminded him in a stronger voice as they stepped out into the main room again.  
Lord Tywin looked at her but did not speak.  
She moved away from Tywin again as Lord Baelish and Lord Varys entered the chamber.  
Tywin began peppering them with questions while Ailyn went to Cersei’s wardrobe and gently pulled one of the doors partway open.  
“The Queen Regent has been kidnapped. I want the castle searched and everyone at the docks discretely questioned,” ordered Lord Tywin to his startled looking Small Council members.  
Maester Pycelle waddled in shortly thereafter and was sent to look at the dead hand maidens.  
Baelish and Varys hurried out to do their lord’s bidding and the guards were sent out as well.  
“Tywin,” said Ailyn softly, coming to stand beside him again, “Why do you believe she was kidnapped?”  
“Her servants are dead and she is missing. What other explanation is there?” he shot back, a trace of condescension in his tone.  
“If she were kidnapped, she would have put up a fight. There would be more disorder in the room than there is,” reasoned Ailyn carefully.  
Lord Tywin narrowed his eyes at her.  
“Perhaps she was unconscious when she was taken but if that were the case, then her kidnapper took great care to pack up all her dresses and jewels before he left,” added Ailyn, indicating the empty wardrobe.  
“What?”  
Lord Tywin strode to the wardrobe and yanked it open. He stood for a moment, staring blankly at it as Lady Ailyn came to stand with him.  
“I think she may have run away,” she supplied, looking at her lion with concern.  
“Lannisters don’t run,” he ground out, but the words were empty; a reactionary phrase, passed down through the generations.  
“We don’t know anything for certain. The truth may come to light after more people are questioned,” soothed Ailyn, putting her hand lightly on his arm.  
“Who killed her servants?” he asked in a hollow voice.  
Ailyn raised her eyebrows in surprise.  
“Tywin, you truly don’t know your daughter, if you don’t believe she is capable of this,” answered Lady Ailyn in a sad voice.  
“What’s going on?” said a voice near the doorway.  
Tywin and Ailyn turned around. Ser Jaime was standing just inside the door, his face bunched up in a frown.  
“Jaime, where is your sister?” demanded Lord Tywin Lannister, striding purposefully up to his eldest son.  
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her today,” Jaime replied, still frowning as his father came to a stop in front of him, bearing down on him.  
“Don’t lie to me,” growled the Lion of Casterly Rock. Ailyn and Ser Jaime both straightened slightly at the dangerous edge in Lord Tywin’s voice.  
“I’m not lying, father,” retorted Jaime defensively. “What…”  
“Her servants are dead and she is missing so I will ask one last time, where has she gone?” snarled Tywin angrily.  
“Cersei’s gone?” repeated Ser Jaime, the words slowly sinking in as he looked around the room. He moved away from Lord Tywin’s angry frame and glanced in at the dead hand maidens.  
“She didn’t tell me anything. If Cersei was planning something, she didn’t share it with me” asked Ser Jaime, running his hand through his hair.  
Lord Tywin gave his eldest son a hard, silent look until Ser Jaime grew uncomfortable.  
“Father, I swear it, I don’t know where she is,” insisted Tywin’s son, growing annoyed and anxious.  
“Her maids were poisoned, my lord hand. It will take a more careful examination to determine which poison was used,” offered Pycelle, coming slowly back into the room.  
Tywin was silent for a time, staring out Cersei’s balcony.  
“Did you give her anything recently which could have caused this?” he asked quietly.  
“No, my lord hand. Her Grace has not asked me for anything which could kill a person, let alone three,” the Maester assured the Hand.  
“Find the exact cause. Jaime, I want a list of all the ships that left the harbor last night and this morning. You will make discreet inquiries. I don’t want word of her disappearance made public before it needs to be,” ordered Lord Tywin.  
“What of Tommen?” asked Ailyn softly.  
Tywin looked at her and at Jaime and then replied, “I will speak with the King myself.”  
He strode from the room, still looking grim and disappointed.  
Ser Jaime looked at Lady Ailyn and then also turned on his heel to leave when Ailyn stopped him.  
“Ser Jaime, please, wait.”  
Jaime turned to stare at her, still a little dazed from the knowledge of his sister’s disappearance.  
“If Cersei left of her own free will, she may have left a message or a note,” suggested Ailyn quietly.  
Jaime’s green eyes flashed to Cersei’s empty desk and then back to Ailyn.  
“Is there some secret place she would have left a message for you,” prodded Ailyn, grasping at the idea.  
Jaime sighed and his eyes flicked involuntarily to one of Cersei’s wooden bed posts.  
“I will not say anything of this to Lord Tywin as long as you promise to tell him yourself if she has said anything concerning her future whereabouts,” said Lady Ailyn quietly.  
After a moment’s hesitation, Ser Jaime strode to the bedpost and slipped his hand into a notch on the side of the pillar and a small, empty space appeared next to his hand. He reached inside and pulled out a small square of paper. Ailyn waited patiently for him to unfold it with one hand and stood silently while he read the message.  
“She has left for good. She didn’t say where she went,” Jaime said in a hollow voice, handing the note to Ailyn and looking away.

Jaime,

By the time you find this, I will be gone. I realize that, no matter what I do, I will never please Father. I refuse to marry against my will again and this is the only way I can live my own life. I will never return. Please look after Tommen. I will love you always.

Cersei

“Are you going to tell Tywin about this note?” asked Ailyn, looking at the abandoned brother.  
“If I don’t, and he finds out about it, we will both be in a great deal of trouble. And he always finds out,” breathed Ser Jaime in a haunted voice.  
“This will hurt him,” murmured Ailyn, folding the note back up and handing it back to Ser Jaime.  
“Good.”  
Ser Jaime slipped the note into a pocket and began to walk towards the door.  
“Will you at least wait until the end of the day to give it to him?” pleaded Ailyn, taking a quick step after him.  
Ser Jaime paused and glanced back at her.  
“Fine.”  
And he strode off without another word or look.  
Ailyn took a deep breath and then turned her feet toward the Small Council room, hoping silently that her husband would not start another war over this incident.  
The rest of the day was exhausting. Cersei had covered her tracks well. Baelish and Varys brought back reports of no less than seven, tall blonde women boarding ships bound for ports in Westeros and across the Narrow Sea that had left in the small hours of the morning. Cersei’s two missing guards were found dead in a servant’s hallway halfway across the palace. Lord Tywin still maintained that she had been kidnapped in an effort to save the Lannister name from stain.  
Through all of this, Ailyn took up a seat at Lord Tywin’s side and did not leave all day, even after he told her to go. She said little and did not interrupt him but hoped her presence was providing him some sense of stability as his world tilted.   
She only stood up and intervened once. When Lord Tywin summoned King Tommen to the Small Council room and told him that his mother had disappeared, the boy began to cry. Tywin Lannister turned away coldly as the boy’s eyes filled with tears so Ailyn got up, dried his eyes and comforted him as best she could until Maergery arrived, carrying the King’s favorite kitten. She and Ailyn had a quick whispered conversation and then the Queen left with the King, assuring him that all would be well, knowing that it wouldn’t.   
When Jaime came to deliver Cersei’s message, Ailyn held her breath as Tywin read the small bit of paper.  
He crushed it in his fist and threw it into the fire, his face twisting with anger. He ordered Ser Jaime to leave which he did without protest.   
“Tywin, I…” began Ailyn softly, touching his arm but he jerked it away from her and went to his desk, sitting down heavily.  
“Go, Ailyn.” The defeat in his voice scared her more than his anger.  
Ailyn went to him, kissed the top of his head briefly and then obeyed his wishes, leaving him alone.  
The next few days did little to relieve the Hand of the King’s distress. Lord Baelish and Lord Varys were having difficulty tracing which blonde woman was Cersei. There were rumors that she had been spotted everywhere from Lys to Dorne. Lord Tywin grew quiet and anxious. Ailyn did what she could to comfort him but he closed himself off to her; saying little and offering less affection than he had since they had been married.   
She went with him to the Small Council chamber everyday and stayed with him for a few hours since he never offered any objection to her doing so. One morning, Ailyn was getting ready to leave when Ser Jaime strode in.  
“Jaime what is it? Do you have news of your sister?” asked Lord Tywin, glancing up at his son.  
“No. I am here to speak about another matter,” replied Ser Jaime.  
“Be brief.”  
In reply, Ser Jaime undid the clasp holding his sword at his side. He removed it, sheath and all from his belt and set it down on the edge of Lord Tywin’s desk.  
The Hand of the King looked at the sword and then up at Ser Jaime.  
“I am resigning as Lord Commander of the King’s Guard and City Watch,” said Ser Jaime firmly, straightening his shoulders seemingly in preparation for his father’s response.  
“Resigning?” There was a heaviness in Lord Tywin’s tone.  
“Yes. I have no sword hand. I am not fit to defend anyone let alone the King. Cersei dismissed Ser Barristan. Now you may dismiss me and replace me with someone who is fit to serve,” explained Ser Jaime, not meeting his father’s gaze but speaking straight ahead to the wall behind Lord Tywin.  
Lord Tywin sat back in his chair and put down his quill. Lady Ailyn stood at his side, looking between Lord Tywin and his heir.  
“Very well. This situation was inevitable if a little sooner than I anticipated. You are my heir; Casterly Rock is yours…” began Lord Tywin but Ser Jaime started shaking his head.  
“You know perfectly well I never wanted Casterly Rock. I still don’t. But I will assume the responsibilities on one condition,” argued Ser Jaime.  
Lord Tywin frowned.  
“You will do what is expected of you.”  
Ser Jaime took a deep breath, steeling himself.  
“There is only one way I will agree to take Casterly Rock; no other.”  
The Hand of the King narrowed his eyes.  
“And what is that?”  
“The choice of wife will be mine and mine alone.”  
“Out of the question.”  
The words were out of Tywin Lannister’s mouth almost the instant his son stopped speaking.  
“With your sister gone, it is more important than ever that you make the right match and I am not inclined to believe you can make that distinction on your own.”  
“Tywin, please…” Ailyn began softly but Lord Tywin waved her off.  
“That is the only condition under which I will be your heir. Take it or leave it,” resolved Ser Jaime, squaring his shoulders.  
Lord Tywin narrowed his eyes sharply and stood up.  
“Are you bargaining with me?” he demanded angrily.  
“No. I am telling you that you will only have what you want if I can have what I want,” retorted Ser Jaime.  
“And what is that?” snapped Lord Tywin.  
Ser Jaime paused and then said firmly, “Lady Brienne.”  
“That woman who’s been walking around like a man? She’s a disgrace to her house,” raged Tywin a vein standing out in his neck.  
“She saved my life. I will have no one but her. You have two days to make your decision,” replied Ser Jaime coldly.  
Lord Tywin’s angry silence and clenched fists were starting to make Ailyn nervous.  
“Leave us,” commanded Lord Tywin, turning on Ailyn before she could speak.  
Ailyn’s eyes went wide at his tone and she started moving away without thinking. She paused as she drew even with Ser Jaime and looked back and forth between both angry Lannisters.  
“Please remember that you are family,” she said, before turning and walking out. Ailyn waited outside the chamber door, listening. There was silence for a long time. And then the shouting started. Ailyn could only listen for a short while before she looked at the two nervous guards on either side of the door and entreated them not to let them kill each other.  
Ailyn left and went back to their chambers and paced around. After a few hours, she left to go visit Maergery and the King. She stayed with them for supper and no summons arrived for her.  
Lady Ailyn returned to the Hand’s chamber later that evening. Gana stepped out from the side door to greet her mistress.  
“Hello, Gana. Is Lord Tywin in yet?” asked Lady Ailyn glancing around the empty room, although there was a fire lit in the hearth.  
“He is on the balcony, my lady. He’s troubled,” replied Gana very softly, with a furtive glance at the curtained entry to the balcony.  
“He has had a difficult day. I’ll change in a little while,” Ailyn requested, moving to go out onto the balcony.  
Ailyn pushed aside the thin hangings and walked out into the cool night air. Lord Tywin was standing at the railing, his back rigid, hands clasped behind him at the waist, motionless. It was with some trepidation that Lady Ailyn approached her husband. She drew up to his side and looked up at him.  
He was staring out at the harbor, lost in thought, a troubled sadness in his eyes. Ailyn said his name softly and put her hand on his arm. He turned his head to look down at her.  
“Ailyn,” he said quietly, making no movement to greet her, the troubled look not leaving his face.  
Ailyn opened her mouth to speak but her lord spoke over her.  
“Ailyn, I’m going to ask you something and I want you to tell me the truth.”  
There was an emptiness in his voice that she hadn’t heard since the days of their first meeting.  
“Anything,” offered Ailyn, now worried herself.  
“Did you tell Jaime to do this?”  
It wasn’t quite an accusation but the question hurt her all the same.  
“Did I tell Jaime to disobey you and put your legacy in jeopardy? No, Tywin, I did nothing of the kind,” Ailyn replied, wounded.  
Tywin fixed her with his gaze, studying her, disbelieving.  
“It isn’t like my son to argue with me let alone use his rights as my heir to bargain for a wife of his choosing,” Tywin went on.  
Ailyn looked away from him before she spoke again.  
“I saw Ser Jaime speaking with Lady Brienne a few times. They looked happy in each other’s company. I urged him to make his feelings for her known but he told me he couldn’t, because he knew you would not approve,” answered Ailyn, looking back at Tywin.  
“Something clearly changed his mind,” retorted Tywin in a hard voice.  
“What are you accusing me of?” demanded Ailyn.  
“Putting ideas in his head that I dislike,” he shot back.  
Ailyn took a small step back from him but did not drop his gaze.  
“I think it is hard of you to arrange your children’s lives as you do when you yourself have never been put in that position,” she asserted.  
Lord Tywin narrowed his eyes at her but did not speak.  
“You married Lady Joanna because you chose to do so, no one to told you she was the woman you were required to spend the rest of your life with. You married for love and so did I. That is so very rare for people in our position. Why would you not want the same happiness for your son?” asked Lady Ailyn.  
“His union with Lady Brienne is not profitable; House Tarth has little to offer in the way of political or mercantile desirability,” replied Tywin Lannister coldly.  
Ailyn flinched.  
“So you would alienate your last remaining child just because he’s trying to live his own life…” Ailyn fought back but Lord Tywin raised a hand to stop her.  
“Enough. You will answer my question and then be silent,” growled Lord Tywin.  
Ailyn drew herself up.  
“No, Lord Tywin, I did not tell your son to disobey you but he is acting out of love, and I cannot find fault with that, whatever you may think of me,” said Lady Ailyn firmly. She held his angry glare for a moment and then turned away. She walked inside and he did not stop her. Ailyn silently changed into a night gown and then slipped into their cold bed as Gana blew out her candles and drew the curtain closed on Ailyn’s side. She lay awake, anxious and worried until she heard him come into the room. The sound of papers rustling on his desk drifted over to her and then he paced over to the fireplace. It grew quiet again for a long while and though she was anxious, Ailyn began to doze. She snapped awake again as she felt him get into the bed. Lord Tywin made no move or attempt to wake her; he rolled onto his side away from her, listening to her breathing long into the night before he drifted off.  
When Lady Ailyn awoke in the morning, his place was empty.  
Lord Tywin gave in to his son’s demand on the second day, knowing that Jaime taking Casterly Rock was the only way to secure his legacy. He did not offer his blessing to Jaime and did not speak to him after he had given his consent.  
That night, after not seeing him all day, Ailyn walked into their chamber to see Lord Tywin sitting on her side of the bed, his hands braced on either side of him, shoulders hunched, staring absently at the floor. It pained her to see him like this. Ailyn quickly went to him and stood before him, unsure what to say.  
Very slowly, he raised his head to meet her concerned gaze, as though the effort of lifting his head was all he could bear.   
“I’ve lost all my children.”  
His voice was flat, as though the sudden realization had crushed him. Lord Tywin dropped his head so he was looking straight ahead at Ailyn’s stomach. Almost mechanically, he reached out and clutched at the fabric of her dress near her waist, gripping it tightly and pulling her closer to him. Ailyn stepped forward and Lord Tywin Lannister pressed his face into her abdomen, taking shallow breaths while holding onto her dress like a drowning man.  
Ailyn let out a soft sound and bent down, running her fingers through his hair and letting her hand rest at the back of his head while protectively wrapping her other arm around his shoulders. She held him to her for a moment and then gently clasped his head in both hands, drawing his gaze up to hers.  
“Tywin, dearest, it isn’t like that.”  
Lady Ailyn let go of his head and carefully knelt down before him, his hands following her as far as they would go and then he rested them on his knees. She took his hands in hers and looked up at him.   
“I assume you aren’t too concerned about Tyrion anymore. And Cersei isn’t dead. Wherever she is, I am sure she is happy. And Jaime is doing what you want: he will marry and look after Casterly Rock. The Lannister line will be preserved through him and Lady Brienne,” summarized Ailyn gently.  
The sadness in Lord Tywin’s eyes did not lift as she spoke but some of the pain left his countenance.  
“And whatever you may have lost, you still have me,” Ailyn reminded him, kissing his hands.  
Lord Tywin clasped her hands in his suddenly, looking into her face earnestly.  
“Promise me you will never leave.”  
Ailyn smiled at him and stood up, Tywin rose up as well, still keeping hold of her hands.  
“I will be with you always,” Ailyn promised.  
Tywin opened his mouth to speak but his lips wouldn’t form the words. Instead, he crushed Ailyn to his chest and kissed her deeply. He broke the kiss abruptly and before she could get her breath back, he lifted her up, turned and laid her down on the bed. As he climbed on top of her, Ailyn hoped that soon he would be able to open up to her.  
In the few following days, he spoke to her a little more but his main consolation was in his work. He rose before her and came to bed after she had fallen asleep. They would share a meal or two and then he would go back to his desk and pull another sheet of parchment toward him.   
On the third night Ailyn went to bed alone, she lay awake for an hour or so before pulling the curtain aside and getting out of bed. She slipped on a robe and went out of the Hand’s chambers and headed to the Small Council room. The guard outside the door let her in, taking care not to look at her.  
She padded quietly into the room and paused in the doorway.  
Lord Tywin was seated at his desk, quill scratching over parchment, his candles burning low. He was intent on his work and didn’t notice her. Ailyn walked into the room and up to his desk. She stood before him, smiling affectionately.  
The quill paused on the page as Lord Tywin’s eyes flicked up to her waist and then up to her face. He glanced at his candles and then at the darkness outside his window.  
“It’s late,” whispered Ailyn.  
Tywin sighed, putting down the quill and rubbing his eyes.  
Ailyn walked around to his side of the desk and placed her hand gently over his.  
“Come to bed. The Seven Kingdoms will be here tomorrow,” she said softly.  
“Are you so sure of that?” he asked, looking at the letter in front of him.  
“Yes. Because you’ll be here,” replied Ailyn.  
Lord Tywin looked up at her, a half smile quirking his mouth.  
She stood back to let him rise and walked with him the length of the room.  
“Did you come here in that?” he asked, looking down her barely clad figure.  
“I could have walked here naked and it wouldn’t have mattered. All your guards are afraid to look at me,” said Ailyn shaking her head.  
Her answer seemed to please him.  
“Good.”   
She walked with her hand through his arm back to their chambers. Once inside, he turned to her and cupped her face in his hands.  
“Ailyn, I’ve been cold to you these past few days. I shouldn’t…I didn’t…” Lord Tywin stopped, at a loss for how to say what he wanted.  
Ailyn hushed him and wrapped her arms around him.  
“I’ve missed you.”  
Tywin brought her face up to his and kissed her for a long moment.  
“You can start making it up to me now,” she whispered smiling, when he let her draw breath.  
Lord Tywin almost smiled at her for the second time that night.  
“I need to wash and then I will, my lady.”  
Ailyn smiled at his retreating figure and then moved to dampen down the fire, bending down to close the grating. As Ailyn was walking back over to the bed, she heard a strange metallic ‘click’ behind her which made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She turned around very slowly and then froze, seeing only the loaded crossbow and the baleful eyes behind it.  
“Tyrion,” she breathed.

 

Author’s note: I can’t say with any certainty that running away is something Cersei has in her make up to do. I want to justify it by saying that she found out Jaime wanted to marry Brienne thus compounding the feeling that she had lost the love of all the important men in her life and leaving to seek it elsewhere. Though, unlike Ailyn, I can’t say that I wish her well.


	36. Recovering

The next morning Ailyn woke up with the sun. She tried to sit up a little, wincing as a sharp pain shot through her shoulder and down her arm. It took her a moment to realize that the body sleeping beside her was not Lord Tywin but Gana. Her maid was lying on her side facing Ailyn, all curled up in a ball like a cat. Ailyn smiled at her and then carefully reached out with her left hand to wake her.  
“Gana?” whispered Ailyn, gently touching her shoulder.  
The girl made a sleepy noise and her eyes opened heavily. They focused on Ailyn and she pushed herself up on her arms.  
“My lady, are you in pain? Should I send for Maester Pycelle?” she asked, her eyes flitting over Ailyn’s face for signs of discomfort.  
“It hurts but not enough to send for Pycelle. I will have some more milk of the poppy with breakfast; that should be enough to ease the pain,” decided Ailyn.  
“Where is Lord Tywin?” asked Ailyn as Gana pushed the covers off and was about to get out of the bed.  
Her maid stopped and looked back at her.  
“Lord Tywin has been sleeping in your old room since you were injured. He always comes in to check on you a few times a day and made me swear that I would stay with you day and night. As if I wouldn’t do that anyway,” muttered Gana, mildly annoyed.  
Ailyn smiled warmly.  
“He doesn’t know you like I do,” replied Ailyn, still smiling.  
Gana smiled back.  
Ailyn adjusted her position on the bed so she was vertical enough to eat. Her stomach felt tight but she was hungry all the same. She was able to eat more than she had the previous evening and took another dose of milk of the poppy when she was finished to ease the pain.   
Gana was nearly through brushing Ailyn’s hair when the door to the Hand’s chambers opened and Lord Tywin strode in. Gana stopped what she was doing and moved deferentially away from her mistress. Ailyn met Tywin Lannister’s anxious eyes as he came over and sat down in a chair beside the bed.  
“How are you, Ailyn?” he asked with concern.  
“A little stronger now that I am eating again. My shoulder is still painful but nothing I can’t manage,” she replied, noticing the dark circles still under his eyes.  
There was a moment of silence between them as Ailyn dropped her gaze.  
“Ailyn I want to talk about…” began Tywin but Ailyn raised her hand and shook her head.  
“Please Tywin, today is my first day of conscious, rational thought in over a week. I’m going to need some time to process what happened and all the things that were said,” countered Ailyn, pleased that he didn’t try to talk over her.  
Lord Tywin did not look pleased but he held his peace all the same.  
“There are some things I do want to ask you,” began Lady Ailyn hesitantly.  
“Anything,” promised her lord.  
“You haven’t found Tyrion?” she asked quietly.  
Tywin’s face darkened.  
“No but when I do…” he growled.  
“Please, just ‘yes’ or ‘no’ for now. Have you had any news of Cersei?” Ailyn pressed on.  
She watched Tywin’s cheekbones jut out a little as he clenched his jaw.  
“No. From what my Small Council is telling me, she is no longer in the Seven Kingdoms,” muttered Tywin Lannister.  
“Has Jaime asked Lady Brienne to marry him yet?” inquired Ailyn gently, knowing that this was probably still a sore point with him.  
More jaw clenching.  
“I have not spoken to my son since this happened,” Lord Tywin answered her coldly.  
Ailyn winced.  
“How can you…” began Ailyn but she stopped herself.  
There was an uneasy silence.  
“How can I what?”  
The Lord of Lannister’s voice had developed an edge.  
“How can you treat your own children with such contempt? Why are you surprised that all your children want nothing to do with you? Have you ever told them you loved them? Or that you were proud of them? Why should they care for you when all you’ve ever offered them is criticism and abuse?”  
The words came pouring out of her before she could stop them. It was something that had been on her mind long before the incident with Tyrion. It was one of the things that had plagued her most the night she was trying to decide whether or not she could marry the lion of Casterly Rock.  
He was glaring at her openly now.  
“You’ve treated me far better than it seems you’ve ever treated them. Why?” whispered Ailyn.  
Lord Tywin ground his teeth and did not speak.  
“They should be better than they are,” he replied, looking at his hands.  
“Tywin, you cannot blame them for being broken when you are just as damaged,” Ailyn said quietly, tears coming to her eyes.  
His sharp green eyes snapped up and searched her face. His frown didn’t lessen but he had no answer for her.  
Suddenly, his face went blank, devoid of any expression. Lord Tywin stood up.  
“I have no wish to distress you, my lady. Excuse me.”  
And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.  
Gana came to her side and Din appeared at the side door, peeking out at Ailyn to see what the matter was.  
“Ailyn, is everything alright?” asked Gana urgently, sitting down beside Ailyn as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.  
“No, Gana. I suspect everything will not be alright for some time to come. Hopefully not a long time,” replied Ailyn, lying back on her pillows.  
Lord Tywin did not come to her again that day.

The next day, he arrived while she was sleeping in the afternoon, having dropped off after a long, heartfelt talk with Maergery in the morning.  
Lord Tywin looked at her and then intended to leave but Gana stopped him.  
“If you please, my lord, Lady Ailyn wished to speak with you,” she said softly, not meeting his gaze.  
He took a breath and then told her to wake his wife.  
Lord Tywin moved off into the room to give her some space while she woke.  
There was a short whispered conversation and then Gana drew up a chair for him and bade him sit down.  
He went over to her bedside but did not sit down. Her cheeks were a little flushed from sleep and her hair was tousled but her eyes were sharp.  
“Ailyn,” he greeted her quietly.  
A ghost of a smile played across her face.  
“Tywin. Please, sit,” she entreated.  
He complied and then wasn’t sure what to say.  
She studied his face sadly, noting the dark circles still remained under his eyes.  
“You aren’t sleeping.”  
“I have much to occupy my mind,” he replied heavily.  
“Have the Greyjoys rebelled yet?” asked Ailyn, trying to keep the conversation light.  
“No, they are still squabbling. I’m of half a mind to destroy them now and have done with it,” muttered Tywin darkly.  
“Tywin, you cannot lay waste to every kingdom that defies you. You will have no one left to rule over.”  
She smiled at him knowingly and his expression softened.  
“Trying to stay my hand?” he asked.  
“Someone needs to. Or give you an alternative,” Ailyn answered.  
Tywin’s countenance became serious again.  
“You almost weren’t here to do either.”  
She couldn’t tell if he was angry or worried.  
“I seem to recall telling you that you were never allowed to risk your life again,” Tywin reminded her.  
“A great deal has changed since we were at Harrenhal,” responded Ailyn.  
“Nothing has changed. Your death will still affect a good many people, most of all me. Don’t you dare ever do anything like that again,” warned Lord Tywin Lannister, staring her down.  
“Tywin I…” Ailyn tried to talk but he silenced her.  
“No arguing. I put my cloak of protection around you. You are my responsibility and I cannot keep you safe if you insist on throwing yourself in harm’s way,” scolded Tywin.  
“Is it not also my duty to protect my husband?” Ailyn pointed out.   
“Not with your life!”  
“I don’t think Tyrion would have allowed us time to argue about it,” said Ailyn quietly.  
“Damn it, Ailyn. Promise me!” snapped Lord Tywin.  
Ailyn’s grey eyes went cold and her smile disappeared.  
“You are in no position to demand anything of me, my lord,” she said calmly.  
It took him several minutes, but Lord Tywin went from angry to abashed before her gaze.  
He reached out and gently put his hand over hers.  
“I’m sorry,” offered the Hand of the King.  
“For what?” asked Ailyn.  
“For yelling at you,” replied Lord Tywin as if she were slow for even asking that question.  
Ailyn sighed in irritation and pulled her hand out from under his.  
“You have much to apologize for, least of all for raising your voice,” Ailyn retorted.  
“Oh? Then what should I apologize for?” asked Tywin, also growing annoyed.  
“Let’s start with leaving me since that might be the shorter conversation than what you did to Tyrion,” Ailyn blurted out.  
Lord Tywin frowned in confusion.  
“I haven’t left…”  
“The night I was wounded, you carried me to the bed and tried to stop the bleeding but then you left,” Ailyn tried to keep her voice steady but it was already shaking.  
Tywin Lannister bowed his head a little but did not look away from her.  
“I was in pain, frightened and I needed you and you left me.”  
Ailyn’s voice cracked on the last word and she looked down at her lap, blinking furiously.  
“Ailyn I had to go after him…”  
“No, you should have stayed with me. I begged you not to go but you cared more about revenge than whether I lived or died,” cried Ailyn angrily through her tears.  
“I couldn’t stay,” said Tywin, looking at her.  
“Why?” demanded Ailyn, wiping her tears away with her left hand.  
Tywin’s jaw muscles worked but he didn’t speak.  
Ailyn stopped waiting for his reply.  
“Please go. My shoulder hurts,” whispered Ailyn, resigned to his silence.  
Lord Tywin looked like he wanted to say something but it wouldn’t come. He stood up and began striding away. After several steps, Ailyn stopped him.  
“Wait. Before you go I have some requests to make,” Ailyn said, getting her voice under control and forcing herself to look over at him.  
He paused and then turned around, his hands clenching and unclenching anxiously.  
“King Tommen’s reign is still uncertain and there are those who would seek to undermine the Lannister name any way they can. As you say, we should seem united in all things. And I’m sure by now, the palace is buzzing with gossip. So tomorrow night, you will resume sleeping here,” Ailyn explained.  
The storm on Tywin’s face abated at her request.  
“To be clear, I’m still mad at you and disappointed that I can’t trust you but for the sake of others, we will try to keep our differences private,” continued Ailyn sternly.  
Tywin inclined his head in acknowledgement.  
“Anything else, my lady?” he asked.  
Ailyn met his eyes.  
“Unless you are assisting me in some way, I’d prefer it if you didn’t touch me.”  
It hurt Ailyn to say it as much as it hurt Tywin to hear it.  
“As you wish, Ailyn,” replied Lord Tywin in a hollow voice.  
And with that, he left the room; Ailyn dissolved into tears.   
Gana kept her company for the rest of the day. Ailyn’s appetite improved although her spirits remained low.  
The next day, Ailyn was able to walk to a chair near the fireplace under her own power. Gana and Din celebrated her little victory even though it left her feeling drained. She ate more and wondered if Tywin was going to visit her before he came to bed in the evening.  
Letters and meetings kept him away all that day and he walked tiredly to the Hand’s chambers late in the evening. A few candles were still burning low in the room and in the dim light, Tywin could see the curtains around the bed were drawn. He walked to his side of the bed and changed into a night shirt as quietly as he could. Lord Tywin slipped carefully into bed as Ailyn’s steady breathing drifted over to him. He laid down on his side and fell asleep to the reassuring sound of her soft breaths.  
He awoke the next morning more refreshed than he had been in over a week. Lord Tywin realized that he had rolled over in his sleep so that he was right beside Ailyn with an arm carelessly thrown over her middle. She was lying on her back, still asleep, her head tilted towards him. Very slowly, he removed himself from the bed, dressed and left for the day before she even woke.  
Again, Lord Tywin did not return to their chambers until late at night. He disrobed and climbed into bed but Ailyn was awake this time. She looked over at him as he drew the curtain closed.  
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered.  
“It’s alright. Get some sleep,” Ailyn whispered back and then turned her head to the other side.   
Ailyn woke in the middle of the night to Tywin making a heartbreaking keening sound in his sleep.  
“Tywin?” she whispered.  
“Nonononono,” he mumbled over and over.  
Carefully, Ailyn reached out with her wounded arm and pulled back the curtain on her side of the bed to let in a little moonlight. She sat up and reached over to shake Lord Tywin’s shoulder.  
“Tywin, wake up,” said Ailyn in a louder voice.  
He jerked when she touched him but he remained asleep. She could feel his skin burning through his night shirt.  
Lord Tywin started gasping, as though he were having trouble breathing.  
“Tywin!” cried Ailyn urgently, gripping his shoulder firmly.  
He snapped awake and sat up quickly, still panting. Tywin’s wide eyes flew around their bed and then stopped when they found her. The panic faded from his eyes, though his forehead and the center of his shirt were damp with sweat.  
“Ailyn,” he managed to say in a scratchy voice.  
“I’m here. It was just a bad dream, Tywin. It’s alright,” soothed Ailyn, still touching his arm.   
He calmed down a little and put his hand over hers briefly, before turning away and getting out of bed. Ailyn listened to him wash his face and change his shirt. She heard him pour a cup of wine and then his steps moved away from the bed until she could no longer hear him. Ailyn lay back down and waited patiently for him to return. She had hoped that if he was sleeping beside her again, he would rest more easily but that didn’t seem to be the case.  
After waiting for half an hour, Ailyn rose as well, found a light robe and went out to the balcony in search of him. She found him there, leaning down with both hands on the rail, his head bowed down on his chest, the cup of wine forgotten next to his right hand. She walked up to him softly and stopped a short way from him, unsure if he wanted her company or not.  
“Tywin?”  
At the sound of her voice, he straightened up and looked over at her, clearing his throat.  
“I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep,” he urged quietly.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Ailyn with concern.  
Tywin closed his eyes and looked away from her. He shook his head in the negative, as though trying to shake the grip of the nightmare itself.  
Ailyn dropped her eyes to the stone floor, disappointed that he refused to share what was troubling him with her. When she looked up again, she met his pained eyes but he remained silent.  
Ailyn took a breath and then nodded, dropping her head and turning to go back inside. She wondered if they would ever be able to trust each other enough to share things as they used to.  
“It’s always the same nightmare,” said Tywin quietly as if reading her thoughts.  
She stopped and looked back.  
“I’m holding Joanna in my arms… and she’s bleeding…there’s blood everywhere. She’s begging me to save her and…” Lord Tywin paused and took a steadying breath, “…there’s nothing I can do. She dies and then… fades away until all that’s left is her blood on my clothes.”  
Ailyn blinked her watery eyes and went to him.  
His hands were gripping the stone railing in front of him so hard his knuckles were white. Ailyn put her hand on his arm and a little of his tension ebbed.  
“Tonight it was different.” His voice was still gravelly and raw.  
He shook his head twice.  
“Tonight, you bled out in my arms, not Joanna.” Lord Tywin’s voice hitched at the end and he looked down, eyes closed.  
Ailyn swallowed hard and moved in close enough to cup his cheek in her left hand.  
“Tywin, I…” she began but he turned to her suddenly and put his hand over hers on his face.  
“That’s why I couldn’t stay with you that night,” Tywin blurted out, overriding Ailyn.  
Ailyn frowned, trying to understand.  
“I didn’t leave because I wanted revenge. I left because I couldn’t bear to stand there powerless while you slipped away. You were bleeding so much. I’m not…I’m not strong enough to go through that again,” he said brokenly, not meeting her gaze. He looked ashamed.  
“Tywin look at me,” insisted Ailyn, as his hands dropped to her waist.  
It took him a moment, but he eventually met her concerned gaze.  
“I’m here. I made a vow to stay with you and I intend to keep it. But I need to know, that if I ask you to stay, you’ll be there for me. I was just as scared as you that night and as much as I would rather not admit it, I needed your strength,” said Ailyn, still looking into his green eyes.  
Tywin pulled her closer so she was resting against him.  
“Promise me,” pleaded Ailyn, stroking his cheek bone with her thumb.  
Lord Tywin’s mouth worked silently for a moment before he managed to say, “I promise, Ailyn.”  
Ailyn smiled through her tears.  
“Thank you. And thank you for telling me the truth even though it hurt,” Ailyn said gratefully.  
Lord Tywin nodded and wiped away the lone tear that had trickled down her cheek.  
Ailyn bent her wounded arm against Tywin’s chest, knowing she still couldn’t raise it up very high and wrapped her other arm around his neck. He bent his head a little toward her, looking down at her affectionately.  
“Kiss me,” she whispered.  
Lord Tywin’s eyes went wide in surprise and he quickly pressed his lips against hers before she had time to change her mind, making a soft noise as he did so. The sound called to mind an image of a man dying of thirst being handed a glass of water. He wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he dared, holding them together for a long moment.  
Ailyn broke the kiss, a light buzzing filling her ears.  
“I need to lie down,” she breathed, leaning on him.  
Instantly, he bent down and lifted her into his arms. Ailyn winced but said nothing as he carried her back to the bed. He made sure she was comfortable and then went around to his side and got in, moving over so he was closer to her than he had been the last few nights.  
“Do you need anything?” he asked, watching her intently.  
“No, I was getting dizzy from standing. I’m better now. We’ll talk more tomorrow,” promised Ailyn, as her eyes began to flutter closed.  
“I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” was the last thing Ailyn heard before she slipped into unconsciousness.

 

Author’s note: To be clear, everything is still not kosher between them but they still care for each other. Next one will be longer. Promise.


	37. Family Progress

When Ailyn woke up the following morning, she was startled to see Lord Tywin still in bed beside her. He had stayed a respectful distance away from her but he moved a little closer as she woke up.  
“Tywin?” she murmured sleepily, rubbing her eyes with her good hand. “You’re still here?”  
“You once asked me to stay in bed in the morning. I thought I would honor your request,” he said quietly, as she placed her hand over his on the bed.  
She smiled a sad smile at him.  
“Were you able to sleep the rest of the night?” she asked, hoping his nightmare had not returned to haunt him.  
“Yes. Thank you for waking me,” replied Lord Tywin quietly, dropping her gaze.  
Ailyn nodded.  
“I was hoping that sleeping in our bed again would be more conducive to better rest. Maybe I was wrong,” wondered Ailyn sadly.  
Tywin met her eyes again.  
“You wanted me to stay…” he trailed off uncertainly.  
“And I still do. Perhaps tonight will be easier,” Ailyn suggested, adjusting her position on the bed. She winced as she put too much weight on her wounded arm.  
“Come, you should eat something so you can have milk of the poppy for your shoulder. I can see it is troubling you,” urged Lord Tywin in the businesslike tone she knew so well.  
He sat up and got out of bed, leaving the curtain half drawn so she could have a moment to herself.  
She heard him order in servants, presumably with food ready and waiting. Servants who could not anticipate the Hand of the King’s wants did not remain in his service long. She moved the curtain aside with her good arm and Gana was waiting in front of her with a robe. They exchanged greetings and smiles, then Ailyn joined Tywin at their table.  
“Kevan returned yesterday. He wishes to see you,” Lord Tywin informed Ailyn as he cleared his plate of bacon.  
“Were his talks with the Greyjoys of any use?” asked Ailyn, finishing her toast.  
“Marginally. I think the long term benefits remain to be seen,” answered the Hand of the King.  
There was a pause while Ailyn considered if she should ask what she wished to ask.  
“Have you spoken with Jaime?” hazarded Ailyn gently.  
Lord Tywin cleared his throat with narrowed eyes.  
“No. I see no reason to,” he replied coldly.  
Ailyn sighed and took a sip of her tea.  
“You were expecting a different answer?” prodded Tywin.  
“I was just hoping you would tell your one remaining child what he means to you before he is lost to you as well,” murmured Ailyn quietly.  
“He is not lost. He will live at Casterly Rock with that wench who dresses like a man if he ever gets around to asking her and she has the sense to accept him,” growled Tywin, still clearly displeased at the thought.  
“Tywin, do you not remember the day I found you hunched over on our bed, distraught at the idea that you had lost all your children?” pressed Ailyn. “Where is that worry now?”  
“As I said, he is not gone and I have resigned myself to his useless match. So long as that woman can bear him children, the Lannister name will continue,” concluded Lord Tywin, pushing back his plate.  
“And that is all that matters to you?” Ailyn asked sadly.  
Lord Tywin looked at her in mild annoyance.  
“Yes.” The word came out flat and emotionless.  
“And you are disappointed with me that I still have not grasped this concept.” Ailyn said it more as a statement than a question.  
Tywin Lannister merely stared at her and they looked at one another in silence before Ailyn looked away and asked Gana to fetch something for the pain in her shoulder.  
Lord Tywin excused himself to dress and Ailyn pushed back her chair as well but did not rise. She watched him walk away, thinking.  
Gana brought her a vial and Ailyn downed its contents gratefully.  
“Which dress would you like to wear today, my lady?” asked Gana, taking back the empty vial.  
“The blue wrap dress, I think. I’d rather not wear a corset if I don’t have to,” decided Ailyn.   
Gana nodded and left to get it out of her mistress’ wardrobe.  
Lord Tywin strode over to her as she was gathering the energy to stand and placed a hand on her good shoulder.  
“Do not overexert yourself,” he cautioned, his voice resuming its concerned authority.  
“I won’t,” Ailyn promised softly, and raised her hand to touch his but he moved away before she could do so.   
Ailyn dressed mechanically and then carefully slipped her arm through a sling of the same color as her dress.  
“I should like to see Ser Kevan this morning unless Lord Tywin has need of him,” requested Ailyn and Gana departed in search of Tywin’s brother.  
They both returned a surprisingly short time later.  
“Ailyn! Thank the gods you are alive. Tywin told me what happened while I was away,” said Ser Kevan anxiously coming to stand before Ailyn and taking her good hand.  
“Kevan, it is good to see you too. I’d like to walk a little this morning if you’ll accompany me?” asked Ailyn, leaning in and kissing his bristly cheek.  
“Of course I’ll come with you but shouldn’t you be resting?” asked Ser Kevan with concern.  
“I have rested enough and I am getting tired of this room,” countered Ailyn, gesturing for them to walk back out the doors.  
They had a short argument about where they should walk to once they reached the door. Ailyn wanted to see the gardens and Kevan preferred that she stayed closer to the room in case she needed to lie down suddenly. In the end, they compromised and walked together down the long hall leading up to the Hand’s chambers.  
“Are you in a great deal of pain, Ailyn?” asked Ser Kevan eyeing the bulging bandage on her shoulder.  
“No, I believe the worst is over. Now it is mostly an ache or an uncomfortable stretching pain when I try to use it too much. It will heal well given time,” Ailyn reassured him.  
“I cannot believe Tyrion capable of this. I know he and Tywin have always been at odds but this is too far,” murmured Kevan.  
“I am still not entirely sure who he was there to shoot, Kevan. I think he decided at the last minute to shoot Tywin instead of me,” reasoned Ailyn.  
“It was brave of you to throw yourself in front of him. He was angry with you for doing so although it was hard to tell beneath the worry. I had several letters from him while I was away. Just once, I wouldn’t mind having good news from him,” Kevan grumbled, glancing at Ailyn to make sure she didn’t think he was making light of this situation.  
“He is rarely optimistic,” agreed Ailyn. “I think Tyrion is gone now, for good.”  
“Perhaps that is best for both of them,” said Ser Kevan, taking her hand as they went down a short flight of stairs.  
“I think so. It seems sad that Tywin may never see his second son again but I don’t think they ever took comfort from each other’s company,” concluded Ailyn.  
“Tywin could never make himself warm to Tyrion; not when he felt the boy was responsible for his wife’s death,” Kevan told Ailyn quietly. He put up a hand to stop her tirade when she turned her head to speak to him.  
“I know he should not have blamed Tyrion for such a thing but it was the only way Tywin could face that situation and not be driven out of his mind with grief,” insisted Kevan heavily.  
“It seems a hard thing to lay at the door of a child.”  
They walked in silence for a time.  
“Are things in the kingdoms getting any better?” asked Ailyn after a moment.  
“The Greyjoys I think are ready to see reason after what happened to the Starks although the North itself will be a problem for a long time to come,” replied Kevan Lannister.  
The old knight turned his brother’s wife around and urged her back in the direction of her room.  
At the doors, Kevan turned to Ailyn and took her good hand in his.  
“Thank you for saving my brother’s life. I will always esteem you for that. Tywin tells me you are torn about how to deal with what Tywin did to Tyrion’s first wife. I don’t condone what Tywin did either but it would hurt my brother deeply if Tyrion drove apart his second marriage as well as ended his first,” said Ser Kevan quietly looking at Ailyn.  
“I know,” answered Ailyn sadly, pressing her brother in law’s hand.  
“You should get some rest now,” insisted Ser Kevan, in an excellent impersonation of his brother.  
Ailyn nodded, thinking hard as she watched him walk away from her.  
She was about to go into her room when another soft voice stopped her from the opposite direction.  
Ailyn turned to see Lord Varys coming down the hall in her direction, a young servant carrying several large tubes followed in his wake. Ailyn nearly gasped when the Lord of Whispers drew up to her. Varys had lost weight and was favoring his right leg as he walked. There was a new pale scar down the side of his right cheek.  
“Lord Varys, what happened?” asked Ailyn in surprise.  
“I appreciate your concern, my lady. The Hand of the King, ahem, had a few questions put to me after Lord Tyrion broke into your chambers,” replied Lord Varys with a tight smile.  
Ailyn winced.  
She was sure Tywin had been none too gentle in his ‘questioning’ even though Lord Varys was a respected advisor.  
“I am sorry for your suffering, Lord Varys. This incident with Tyrion can hardly be laid at your door,” commiserated Ailyn, opening her door and gesturing him inside.  
Varys bowed respectfully and walked in. He indicated to the servant to set the tubes down on a large table in the middle of the room which he did and then hastily withdrew.  
“I am pleased that you are walking about, my lady. It would have been such a shame to have lost you just as you were settling into your new life with the Hand of the King,” said Lord Varys, taking up one of the tubes and opening the end as he spoke.  
“I am relieved to be here as well, Lord Varys. What is it you have brought to me?” asked Ailyn curiously.  
“I believe just before your … injury, you requested to see some maps of the city?” replied Lord Varys pulling out a large scroll and laying it flat on the table.  
It was a highly detailed layout of King’s Landing and a little of the surrounding areas.  
“Yes, I did. Thank you, Lord Varys. I wished to see a map of the city and speak with you about its districts, their interconnectivity and find out where the biggest problems lie,” said Ailyn bending over the map eagerly.  
“Problems?” repeated Lord Varys softly.  
“King’s Landing is dealing with the fallout of a large scale war. The number of inhabitants in the city has probably doubled in a short time. That alone will create many problems,” said Ailyn, glancing at Lord Varys for confirmation.  
“It would be more accurate to say the number has nearly tripled and more are still coming in everyday,” replied Varys looking at her with interest.  
“Then if you would be so good, I’d like you to walk me through this map and then elaborate on the city’s problems. If I am to spend a great deal more time sitting and healing, my mind at least can be useful,” said Ailyn settling herself down in a chair at the table and motioning for some wine to be brought over.  
“You are a rare woman, my lady. I can’t say that many high born women would be interested in the workings of the capitol,” complimented Varys taking a seat next to her and pulling the map closer.  
“My husband is tasked with cleaning up the Seven Kingdoms now that the fighting is done. I would like to help alleviate some of his concerns, at least in King’s Landing. I’ll leave the rest of the politics to him,” conceded Ailyn with a smile.  
Varys returned it and they spent the next several hours going over the map. Varys informed Ailyn of all the districts and their positions in relation to others, how many inhabitants there were, the state of housing and sanitation in each area. Soon Ailyn, asked Gana to sit beside her and take dictated notes.  
When Lord Varys left, Ailyn’s head was spinning with information and starting to ache. She resolved within the next few days to seek Maergery out too. She had actually walked around in some of these areas and her information might be more accurate even than Varys’.  
She napped until dinner and then made a point of dining with Tywin. Their conversation was civil and easy although Tywin frowned at how long Ailyn had been bent over the maps with Varys. She waved away his concern and retired early, asleep before Tywin finished his last letter of the day and crawled into bed beside her.  
The next day, another member of the Lannister family visited her.  
“Lady Ailyn, Ser Jaime is asking to see you,” said Gana quietly.  
Ailyn looked up in surprise from a section of map she had been studying.   
“Of course, please show him in.”  
Gana quickly returned to the door and ushered in Lord Tywin’s heir.  
Ser Jaime was well dressed in white breeches and a long, white leather tunic but it was odd seeing him without armor. He had a dazed and slightly scared expression on his face as he came up to Ailyn.  
“Ser Jaime, what’s wrong?” asked Ailyn starting to rise but Ser Jaime put his good hand on her shoulder and pressed her back gently.  
“Forgive me, Lady Ailyn. I should have come to see you sooner… only I was…I didn’t know if you would want to see me,” said Jaime, furtively meeting her eyes.  
“Why wouldn’t I?”  
“I almost got you killed. I helped Tyrion escape. I didn’t know he was planning on coming back…” worried Jaime pacing before Ailyn’s chair.  
“You were right to help your brother, Jaime. I don’t blame you for that. If you had known what he intended to do, that might be another matter since you did not warn us but now, what’s done is done and no one has died. But that isn’t why you are here,” intuited Ailyn, narrowing her eyes a little at her son in law.  
Jaime looked distractedly around the room.  
“I want to know what you said to him.” The old Lord Commander’s voice was a harsh whisper.  
“Tyrion?” asked Ailyn, confused.  
“No. To my father. Just now, he came to my chambers and told me…how proud he was of me and… other things that I had never thought to hear from him,” recounted Jaime, still sounding shocked.  
Ailyn smiled at him and then looked down into her lap.  
The Lord of Casterly Rock and Hand of the King had taken her advice after all.  
“Ailyn, I… what did you do to him? I’ve only ever gotten the scantest of praise from him all my life, barely any affection and he just embraced me as though he hadn’t seen me in twenty years,” continued Ser Jaime.  
“I am glad of it,” Ailyn said, still smiling.  
“I can’t remember the last time I was this scared,” muttered the son, running his hand through his hair nervously.  
Ailyn laughed.  
“Jaime, he loves you. He’s always loved you; he’s just been very poor at showing it,” Ailyn assured him.  
“But what did you say?” pressed Ser Jaime urgently.  
Ailyn took a breath and gathered her thoughts.  
“I told him that since you were the only child of his still remaining in King’s Landing who had not fled from him, he should tell you what you mean to him before it was too late,” replied Lady Ailyn.  
Ser Jaime’s mouth worked for a moment without any sound escaping his lips much the same way Lord Tywin’s did when he didn’t know what to say to her.  
“If you had been anyone else, he would have done horrible things to the person who had the gall to say that to him.  
“He may yet decide to do so. I annoy him quite easily of late,” Ailyn responded.  
“No, he won’t. He treats you differently from all of us,” said Ser Jaime quietly not looking at her.  
Ailyn wasn’t sure if the ‘us’ meant other Lannisters or other people in general.  
“I didn’t ask him to,” she reminded him gently.  
“I know. I know. I’ve known him for thirty five years and I still don’t understand him most of the time,” muttered the frustrated son.  
“Neither do I. That’s just who he is,” Ailyn supplied.  
“Did he give you his blessing to ask Lady Brienne or have you done so already?” prodded Ailyn with a small smile.  
Jaime glanced at her like a frightened deer.  
“I haven’t asked her yet,” he confessed looking down at the ground.  
“You fought with your father for her,” Ailyn reminded him.  
“I’m starting to think that was the less frightening of the two tasks,” he retorted, pacing around restlessly in front of her.  
Ailyn laughed.  
“You’re a brave man Ser Jaime. I’m sure you can talk to the woman you love for five minutes,” goaded Ailyn.  
Jaime snorted.  
“You women have it easy. All you have to do is wait around to be asked and then pass judgment on us while we agonize over whether we said everything right or used the proper words to describe how beautiful they are.”  
“Just tell her the truth,” prompted Ailyn firmly.  
Jaime looked at her for a moment.  
“Is that what my father did?”  
Ailyn looked away from him as she thought back to Lord Tywin’s proposal.  
“I think he told me as much of the truth as he could,” answered Ailyn after a long moment.  
Jaime looked out at the balcony and nodded.  
“Tommen’s nameday will be here soon. You should stay for that if you are able. He should have as much of his remaining family about him as he can,” requested Ailyn gently.  
Ser Jaime nodded.  
“Of course I will be here for that.”  
He glanced around suddenly.  
“I should go. I don’t know how my father is going to act around me anymore and one shock is all I can handle for today,” muttered Jaime, looking anxiously at the door.  
Ailyn laughed again.  
“Thank you for coming, Jaime. And good luck. Whatever you decide to say, if she loves you in return, it will be enough,” Ailyn said with a warm smile.  
Jaime nodded again and pressed her shoulder before walking out.  
Ailyn settled down comfortably on the bed to read through some notes Lord Varys had sent her about King’s Landing and before long, she felt herself drifting off to sleep.  
She woke some time later, to Gana’s gently nudging.  
“Ailyn, the King is here,” whispered Gana urgently, as Ailyn gradually woke up. At her maid’s words however, Ailyn’s eyes went wide.  
“Let him in,” said Ailyn instantly, sitting up in bed and setting her book aside.  
The boy King walked slowly into the room and in the general direction of the bed. He stopped ten feet away, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, his eyes were red from crying and he looked disconsolate.   
“Your Grace what is wrong?” asked Ailyn with concern.  
“My name is Tommen! I don’t want to be the King!” the unhappy little boy burst out, stamping his foot.  
“Tommen, will you come sit with me and tell me what is bothering you?” asked Ailyn gently.  
The little King sniffled and nodded. He trudged around to Tywin’s side of the bed, took off his boots and then climbed up to sit beside her. Ailyn put out her good arm and he nestled into her side.  
“They’re all gone,” he whispered desperately, after clinging to her for a moment in silence.  
The hurt in his tone tugged at her heart.  
“Tommen…” began Ailyn gently but the little boy went on.  
“My father and brother are dead. My sister is far away and Mother left me. Maergery is in the city and I don’t know where Ser Pounce is!” cried Tommen and began to sob into Ailyn’s dress.  
Ailyn held him tighter and looked over meaningfully at Gana. Her maid came closer and Ailyn mouthed, ‘Find the kitten.’ Gana nodded and went to the door to find the King’s guards.   
She rested her cheek on the boy’s head and comforted him as she used to do with Mardyn as he was growing up.  
“Tommen you are not alone. You have Maergery, your grandfather, your uncle Jaime, and me. We are here with you,” cooed Ailyn softly into his hair. “You like Maergery, don’t you?”  
Tommen nodded into her chest.  
“Grandfather scares me.”  
Ailyn smiled.  
“Your grandfather scares a great many people but you have nothing to fear from him. He is here to protect and look after you as well as the Seven Kingdoms,” said Ailyn reassuringly. “And I am not going anywhere. You can come see me whenever you want.”  
Tommen raised his red, wet face and looked at her.  
“Anytime?” he asked softly.  
“Anytime,” she promised.  
Din came in and brought a small cloth over to Ailyn so the King could blow his nose which he did very loudly. She handed Ailyn a small cup of water for the King as he finished wiping his nose.  
“I’m sorry,” he pouted, “I know I shouldn’t cry.”  
“Tommen, it’s alright to cry,” offered Ailyn, taking his soiled cloth and handing him the glass of water instead.  
“Lannisters never cry. It is weak to cry,” recited the little boy as though the lesson had been drilled into him from the day he was born.  
“Tommen, you are the King as well as a Lannister and you can cry if you wish to. No one will stop you. I’m sure your grandfather would prefer that you did it in private but there is no shame in showing how you feel,” explained Ailyn.  
Tommen looked at her like he wanted to believe her but he still looked a little embarrassed as he drank the water.  
“Would you like to stay with me until Maergery gets back from the city?” asked Ailyn, handing the empty cup back to Din.  
Tommen nodded, his face brightening a little.  
“Good. Do you like stories? I have quite a few books that we could look at,” suggested Ailyn, motioning to the shelves.  
“Do you have one with animals?” asked Tommen eagerly.  
Ailyn thought for a moment and then turned to Din again.  
“Din, would you pick out The Animals of Westeros and Essos for me? It should be that green book on the far right,” directed Ailyn, pointing to it with her good hand.   
Din retrieved it and set it carefully down in Ailyn’s lap.   
“Would you like to hold it up for us, Tommen?”   
The King nodded. He settled in next to her and held the book open so they could both see the pages. Tommen turned the pages excitedly.   
For the next hour or so, Ailyn told him about the animals he was looking at and encouraged him to read to her. Gana eventually returned holding a struggling orange kitten in her arms.   
“Pounce!” cried Tommen happily. He set the book down and reached out for the kitten, leaning over Ailyn. Gana gave the little creature to the King and it stopped mewing once it was in his arms. He hugged it close to his chest and it batted at his nose.   
“This is Ser Pounce,” said Tommen proudly, showing it to Ailyn.  
Ailyn grinned and held out her hand so the kitten could sniff her. It mewed uncertainly a few times and then licked her finger with its tiny, rough tongue. She rubbed the wild orange fur by its ears and then watched as it pawed at Tommen’s stomach and then curled up in a tiny ball of fluff, purring contentedly in the King’s lap.  
Tommen yawned and nestled more closely into Ailyn, letting go of the book.  
Din gently removed it as Ailyn put her arm around the sleepy King and urged him to sleep if he wished to. Tommen made sure to have both his hands resting on the kitten before his head drooped against Ailyn’s chest. Hesitantly, Ailyn brushed her fingers through his hair and rested her cheek on his head.   
Tears filled Ailyn’s eyes and she blinked them away quickly.  
‘So this is what it’s like to have a child to care for,’ she thought as the familiar, unfulfilled ache gripped her heart again.  
She carefully wiped her remaining tears away with her hand and calmed down for Tommen’s sake. The boy was already unhappy and distressed and she had no wish to add to that. Ailyn listened to his breathing and the gentle purring coming from the sleepy kitten in the King’s lap.   
The shadows grew longer in the Hand’s chambers and Ailyn started to worry about Maergery. She let out a soft breath of relief when the door to their rooms opened but Maergery did not come through the door. Lord Tywin strode into the room and was about to speak to Ailyn when she shook her head at him with a warning frown.  
Lord Tywin paused, his own brow creasing at her reaction to his presence and then he noticed his grandson asleep next to Ailyn. He stepped soundlessly up to the bed and looked down on both of them.  
“How long has the King been here?” asked Tywin quietly.  
“Only a few hours,” whispered Ailyn.  
Even though they were speaking softly, Tommen stirred and began to wake up.  
“Tommen, your grandfather is here,” said Ailyn in a soothing tone.  
At that, the boy’s eyes opened wide and he sat up quickly, moving out from underneath Ailyn’s arm.  
“Grandfather,” said Tommen, lowering his head a little as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t.  
“Your Grace, what brings you to my chambers?” asked Lord Tywin, his sharp eyes moving between Ailyn and the King.  
Tommen opened his mouth but only managed to stammer something incomprehensible.  
Tywin frowned and Ailyn saw the little boy clutch his kitten almost too hard, the creature mewled and flailed his little paws in protest.  
“The King came to see me while Maergery is in the city. We looked through a book about animals for so long that His Grace became tired and feel asleep next to me,” Ailyn quickly interjected, placing a hand gently on Tommen’s shoulder.  
Tommen relaxed slightly, glancing between her and his grandfather.  
“I see.”  
“Why don’t you let me hold Pounce for you while you get your boots on?” suggested Ailyn gently, wishing Tywin’s gaze did not look quite so stern.  
Tommen quickly handed the kitten to Ailyn and clambered off the bed to pull them on. Thankfully, their chamber door opened again and Queen Maergery was announced. Ailyn leaned around Tywin and smiled at her friend who beamed back.  
“My Lord Hand, Lady Ailyn, I was looking for my husband and was told he was here,” said Maergery sweetly, coming into the room.  
Tywin turned to her, about to speak, when Tommen came around the side of the bed.  
“Maergery!” he cried happily and ran to her. The Queen from High Garden hugged the young king affectionately.  
“Don’t forget Ser Pounce, Your Grace,” called Ailyn, smiling at them as the kitten nibbled her finger in a feeble attempt to escape.  
Tommen let go of Maergery and ran back to her to take the kitten.  
“Thank you, Lady Ailyn,” he said politely.  
“You are very welcome. Come back whenever you like and we can read about more animals,” promised Ailyn with a smile.  
The King nodded happily and then went back to Maergery.  
“I am glad you are feeling better, Ailyn,” she said, glancing at Lord Tywin.  
“I am, thank you. We shall talk in a few days,” Ailyn offered.  
Maergery nodded and then with a respectful curtsey, both their Graces left the Hand’s chambers.  
“The King has never come here before. Was he looking for me?” asked Lord Tywin, looking down at Ailyn.  
She thought back to how afraid he had sounded of Lord Tywin.  
“No, he was distressed and wanted some company. He is a lonely boy, Tywin. He has no one to play with his own age and very little family left to rally around him,” said Ailyn, meeting her lord’s eyes and getting up.  
“He shouldn’t be playing, he’s the King,” retorted Tywin, helping her to her feet.  
“He’s a child and should be allowed to have a childhood regardless of what you think,” insisted Ailyn firmly, standing in front of Tywin.  
“I warned you about preaching to me about parenthood,” growled Tywin.  
“And you married me, in part, to save you from yourself when you needed it. Which duty would you rather I perform?” Ailyn shot back.   
“Do you care for me at all?” demanded Lord Tywin.  
Ailyn winced. She went to him and gently cupped his scruffy cheek.  
“Oh Tywin, of course I care for you. That’s why this is so hard,” said Ailyn, turning away from him again.  
Lord Tywin didn’t speak and soon Ailyn turned to him again.  
“You are not sorry for what you did to Tyrion?”  
“No. He needed to learn a lesson and he has,” growled Lord Tywin.  
“At what cost? How did emotionally scaring him for life benefit the Lannister family?” persisted Ailyn.  
“He learned to never make a life decision without my blessing,” returned Tywin in a hard voice.  
“You also taught him to hate you.”  
Tywin Lannister bit back a reply, glancing away from her for a moment. Then he straightened as she knew she was speaking to The Hand of the King and the Warden of the West, not her lion.  
“I know what I have done and I stand by all my actions. I will not apologize for the steps I have taken for the betterment and elevation of my family, however heinous they may seem to you. The Lannisters are in control of the throne now and whatever it takes, I intend to keep it that way. This is who I am, Ailyn. This is who I have always been and will continue to be.”  
Of all the things he had said to her, she knew that he was speaking the truth now. He was the Lannister’s fiercest lion; he could never be anything else.  
“It seems to me that two options now lay open to you, Ailyn. Either you find a way to accept this, to accept me so that we can move forward with our lives,” stipulated Lord Tywin.  
“Or?” asked Ailyn softly, meeting his eyes.  
“Or we part company. You may have your own set of rooms wherever you wish and I will not disturb you unless you are required to be with me for a state occasion. You can do as you please so long as you behave in a manner befitting your position and do not embarrass me. We will be husband and wife in name only, nothing more,” finished Lord Tywin heavily.  
Ailyn looked at the ground and swallowed hard.  
“I don’t want that for us,” she whispered.  
“Neither do I but nor will I suffer your constant judgment and disapproval for everything I have done to make the Lannisters what we are. I will be ready to listen whenever you wish to speak to me. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some matters to attend to,” said Tywin, inclining his head to her, picking up his leather case with his papers and walking out of their rooms. 

 

Author’s note: Thanks for not giving up on me! More to come much sooner than before.


	38. A Decision and a Nameday

Ailyn watched Lord Tywin leave their chambers in stunned disbelief. After everything they had been through together, he was willing to cut her out of his life as quickly as he had pulled her into it. That was the very thing she had been afraid of: that one day, he would stop caring for her, stop loving her if, indeed, that was what he felt, as swiftly as the gathering darkness after the death of a candle flame.  
I made him care for me and he made me want to be with him, thought Ailyn.  
She paced around distractedly for the better part of an hour, thinking, weighing.   
When Lady Ailyn was falling for Lord Darren, she felt as if he had made a daily charge at the doors of her heart and battered against them with sweet words, honesty and kindness. Not so with the Lord of Casterly Rock. It felt as though she had looked in a side room of her heart one day and found him there as though he had been there all along. Ailyn’s affection for Tywin had developed so gradually in comparison with Lord Darren’s sudden and complete capture of her, that she was surprised to remember how much she had disliked him upon their first meeting.  
“My lady, won’t you sit down for a moment?” asked Gana anxiously as Ailyn paused in the center of the room.  
“Gana, have you ever been in love?” questioned Ailyn, moving to take the chair Gana was gesturing to.  
Her maid blushed and looked down.  
“Yes, my lady. Once,” Gana answered, meeting Ailyn’s eyes when she was finished speaking.  
“You were? Why do I not remember you telling me about him?” Ailyn asked, surprised.  
“I mentioned him to you once, my lady, but I fell in love with him at the same time as you were falling for Lord Darren. He was all you could focus on in the early days of your meeting and courtship,” replied Gana gently.  
“That was very selfish of me, Gana. I’m sorry. Why did you not run off with this man?” prompted Ailyn curiously.  
“He said he loved me in return but he was a singer and such a dreamer. If we had run off together, we might have been happy for a time but I was never certain that he would be able to take care of me. He was still such a boy in many ways that I didn’t trust him enough to throw my lot in with his. Perhaps I should have. I’ll never know now,” said Gana quietly.  
“Why, is he dead?” asked Ailyn concerned.  
“Oh no. He left Willow Glen for another city farther south. He never did tell me where he was going,” remembered Gana, looking out the balcony.  
“Maybe you’ll find him again someday,” offered Ailyn, taking her friend’s hand.  
“Maybe,” said Gana with a smile. Then it was her turn to be concerned.  
“I heard what Lord Tywin said to you. I don’t think it fair of him to be so cold with you now when he took such good care of you while you were ill,” Gana said quietly.  
“It was very hard to hear him say that he was willing to ignore me for the rest of his life if that was what I wanted. I took an arrow for him!” exclaimed Ailyn, frustrated.  
“Do you love him?” murmured Gana carefully meeting her mistress’ eyes.  
“Yes of course I love him. Isn’t it obvious?” cried Ailyn.  
“To me, it is, yes. But to him, well, he is a man, my lady. Most of them need things spelled out very carefully and slowly for them. Even the best of them, as I believe he is,” replied Gana with a gentle smile.  
“You think he is a good man, Gana?” asked Ailyn, looking at her friend.  
“Yes, my lady, I do. And you do as well else you would not have married him,” her maid stated firmly.  
Ailyn smiled and looked at the floor.  
“I suppose you’re right. I’m being bull headed. Will you see if Lord Tywin will dine with me this evening?” suggested Lady Ailyn rising.  
Gana smiled and nodded, stepping out to find the Hand of the King.  
Ailyn went over by their bed and sat down on it, thinking.  
When Gana returned she did not look as pleased as when she left.  
Ailyn met her friend’s eyes and knew the meeting between master and maid had not gone well.  
“He declined?” asked Ailyn frowning.  
“He said he had too many things to take care of this evening and did not expect to return until very late,” amended Gana.  
“Is he pushing me away already?” asked Ailyn more to herself than to anyone else.  
“He may just be delaying having a conversation he is afraid to have,” offered Gana.  
“It sounds like his mind is already made up.”  
“He did hesitate, my lady, before declining. Ser Kevan did not look pleased with Lord Tywin’s decision,” Gana added, sitting down next to Ailyn.  
Ailyn was silent for a time.  
“Would you ask Maegery to come to me after the King is asleep?” Ailyn requested quietly.   
“Of course, Ailyn,” replied Gana, patting her friend’s hand before getting up.  
After Gana had left, Ailyn wanted to be comforted. Din, however, was not the comforting type.  
“Din?” called Ailyn glancing over at the servant’s door.  
There was a slight pause and then Din appeared at the door, her wide eyes awaiting an order.  
“Would you brush my hair?” asked Ailyn, getting up.  
Din nodded and bobbed her usual curtsey, then followed Ailyn to her dressing table. She deftly pulled the pins from Ailyn’s hair and let it hang down her back. Ailyn’s eyes slid closed as Din ran her fingers through her hair and then separated it to brush a handful at a time. Her touch was sure but very gentle.  
You promised to stand by him always and at the first sign of trouble, you pulled away. Given who he is, you should count yourself lucky that he still wants you at all, thought Ailyn. You are capable of far more constancy than this.  
Lady Maergery arrived after dinner as Ailyn was contemplating whether or not to eat the rather rich looking desert in front of her.  
“Maergery! I am so glad to see you,” exclaimed Ailyn rising as Maergery embraced her carefully.  
“I’ve missed you too, Ailyn. How is your shoulder?” she asked, giving it a concerned look.  
“It hurts occasionally but I can use my hand for most things now as long as I don’t need to hold anything heavy,” replied Ailyn, sitting back down and gesturing for Maegery to take a seat beside her.  
“Will you help me eat this?” asked Ailyn, indicating the large apple pastry topped with a generous dollop of cream.  
“Of course,” grinned Maergery, as Gana sliced it in half and put some on a plate for each lady.  
“How is Tommen?” inquired Ailyn, after taking a few bites.  
“Some days he is perfectly happy and others, it seems there is nothing I can do to cheer him up,” lamented Maergery.  
“He should have some boys his own age to play with, to keep him occupied. The less time he has to think about things, the better off he will be,” suggested Ailyn.  
“My brother and Lancel have been coming to see him and put on sword fights for him although I can’t tell if he enjoys it or not. I think the loud noises might scare him a little,” admitted Maergery, washing down the desert with some wine.  
“He is much gentler than I think Tywin would like,” said Ailyn quietly.  
“When Lord Tywin was that age he was probably already planning the conquest of the Seven Kingdoms,” murmured Maergery conspiratorially.  
They both laughed when they glanced at the door, as if to be sure he would not somehow hear them.  
When their laughter died away, Maergery hazarded a question.  
“How have you both been doing after Tyrion’s attack?” she asked softly.  
“Not well. Tywin took good care of me when I was recovering but now that I’ve confronted him about why Tyrion attacked, we’ve grown apart a little,” Ailyn said sadly, putting down her fork and wiping her mouth.  
“You discovered something about Lord Tywin that unsettled you?” guessed Maergery.  
Ailyn nodded.  
Maergery smiled at Ailyn indulgently.  
“Ailyn, you married the most powerful and perhaps the most ruthless man in the Seven Kingdoms. I imagine you would find out something unsettling about him every other day. I’m sure he has done things he never wishes to share with you,” said Maegery, placing her hand over her friend’s.  
“I know. It’s just difficult to ignore his past actions when they burst into our bedchamber with a crossbow,” muttered Ailyn tightly.  
“This …thing…you are referring to happened before you knew Lord Tywin?” asked Maergery.  
Ailyn nodded.  
“Then perhaps set it aside. You were not there to counsel him to a more reasonable action. You care for him, don’t you?”  
“Very much,” said Ailyn with a smile.  
“Then let it go. If you don’t, you may lose him so soon after you finally securing him,” reasoned Maergery.  
Ailyn nodded again, knowing that what Maergery was saying was true.  
“At the very least, you must miss his…husbandly attentions,” quipped Maergery, with a naughty quirk at the corner of her mouth.  
“Maergery!” laughed Ailyn, blushing.  
“Please, I’ve been dying to ask you how he is as a lover,” she whispered, fixing her full attention on Ailyn.  
Ailyn bit her lip and gave her friend a look.  
“Oh go on! My husband won’t want me for at least another three or four years. I don’t need details just a short, general answer will do,” pressed Maergery leaning on the table toward Ailyn.  
Ailyn stoked the flames of Maergery’s curiosity more by blushing harder and not meeting her friend’s gaze. She thought about all the times she and Tywin had been in bed together.   
“I have no complaints, Maergery. He has never left me wanting,” admitted Ailyn finally much to Maergery’s delight.  
“I knew it! He’s been without a wife for so long, I’m sure he’s anxious to make up for lost time. And you’re strong enough to keep up with his needs?” prodded Maergery, ignoring Ailyn’s red face.  
“I’ve only had to ask him to stop once. He was behind me and was a little more…enthusiastic… than usual. Maergery, it’s not funny,” chided Ailyn, though she was still grinning herself, “I thought something was going to rip.”  
Maergery giggled and covered her mouth with her hand, leaning back in her chair. When she stopped laughing, she asked, “And did he listen? Did he stop?”   
“Yes.”  
Maergery looked at her for a minute.  
“Now that is power,” said the Queen quietly.  
“It scares me sometimes,” admitted Ailyn under her breath.  
Maergery smiled at her.  
“Think of all the good you could do with it.”  
“I intend to. There are several projects in the city I have in mind that I would like to speak with you about in the next few days,” said Ailyn with more assurance as she stood up from the table.  
Maergery rose as well.  
“I will look forward to it. Get some sleep, Ailyn. Speak with your Lord in the morning. Men are always more amenable to us in the morning,” suggested Maergery.  
“And how would you know that?” demanded Ailyn, a smile curving the side of her mouth.  
But the Queen merely winked and kissed Ailyn on the cheek before she sauntered out the door.  
Ailyn shook her head and called for Gana to help her into her dressing gown.  
The next morning, Ailyn woke before Lord Tywin. She lay there is the lightening darkness, listening to his steady breathing, knowing that no matter what was going on in her head, her heart would never let her forsake him. Ailyn started dozing off again when Tywin’s breaths seemed to trip over themselves and he snorted himself into wakefulness. She listened to him rub a hand over his face, and then felt him roll over towards her and pause. Her eyes were closed and she looked for all the world as though she were asleep. After a moment, he carefully rolled away from her and got out of bed. She waited until he had come back into the room from his bath and then quietly slipped out of bed, keeping the closed bed curtains between them. Ailyn let her night dress fall to the ground and then stepped out of her small clothes as well. She wrapped her red robe around her naked body and then moved around the bed to speak with her lord.  
Lord Tywin was standing in front of a small mirror, brushing back his thin, tussled hair. He was wearing a large towel around his waist and nothing else. She took in the old battle scars that chased each other up his back, and appreciated the pleasing ‘V’ shape of his torso. His steward was walking over to Lord Tywin carrying a pair of breeches but he paused when he saw her.  
Ailyn dismissed him with her eyes. He glanced at Lord Tywin’s profile, nodded respectfully to her and then silently swept out after setting the breeches down on a table. Tywin turned his head as his steward began walking away, one golden eyebrow raised in surprise. He turned around a little further and noticed Ailyn behind him.  
He moved to face her, his countenance became less thunderous but hovered around wary.  
“Ailyn, I thought you were still asleep,” he said quietly.  
“I’ve been awake for a little while now. I’d like to talk to you if I may,” replied Ailyn.  
Both eyebrows went up.  
“It can’t wait until I’m clothed?”  
Ailyn shook her head.  
“Very well. Go on,” prompted her lord.  
Ailyn took a deep breath.  
“I don’t approve of the way you treat most of your family but when we were married, I never thought we would always agree on everything. We have been at odds on certain topics since the day we met. To others you can be cold, brutal, and unfeeling but you have shown me that you are capable of a great deal more than a wrathful tyrant. Perhaps I will never know everything about you but I don’t want to throw away the opportunity to learn. I apologize for my inconstancy. I am your wife and I will stand by you. Despite some of the things you’ve done, I still want to be with you, more than anything. If you will still have me,” said Ailyn hopefully.  
Tywin looked pleased and relieved. He went to Ailyn and clasped her hands in his.  
“I will,” he answered tenderly.  
Ailyn gave him a sly smile, gently tugged her hands away from him and untied her robe, so it fell to the floor. Tywin’s eyes opened wider in surprise and his lips parted with a soft sound. The only thing covering Ailyn was the bandage still wrapped tightly around her shoulder.  
“Will you have me right now?” she asked teasingly.  
A dangerous glint filled the lion’s eyes and he grabbed her hair at the back of her head and her waist, slamming her against his chest. She made a soft sound as he crushed his lips against hers and held her tightly to his chest. Her wounded arm was bent against his chest but it didn’t hurt as she was expecting it to. His tongue flooded her mouth briefly then he began biting his way down her neck.   
Suddenly, he stopped and looked down at her worriedly.  
“Your shoulder… I don’t want…” began Lord Tywin distractedly but Ailyn cut him off breathlessly.  
“Damn my shoulder,” she said impatiently, and kissed him just as roughly as he had a moment ago.  
She arched into him and felt his hardness beneath the towel pressing against her abdomen. Suddenly, he reached down between them and touched her wet lips briefly before pressing one finger inside of her. Ailyn cried out at his intrusion, her cheeks flushing pink. She braced her arms on his chest, her mouth still open as he cupped her in his hand.   
“Walk,” he growled, a feral glint in his green eyes.  
Ailyn’s eyes opened wider and she took an obedient step back as he took one forward, his hand still firmly between her legs. He pushed against her as he took another step forward. She was gasping by the time they had walked back to the bed. She bent to sit, moaning at the friction of his hand moving with her. Ailyn let herself fall back on the bed, and lay there on the edge, her legs dangling on either side of Lord Tywin’s hips. Without warning, he pulled his hand away to tug off his towel and grabbed her hips, tilting them to meet him. Tywin pushed all the way into her in one thrust and Ailyn cried out as her head snapped to the side. He began pistoning in and out of her faster and more roughly than he ever had. Ailyn managed two more wavering cries as her breasts jerked when their hips slammed together. She felt her desire just beginning to pool when Tywin stiffened and groaned, his face a grimace of exertion. Ailyn let her legs untangle from his waist as he braced himself on either side of her and slid away from her. He collapsed on his side, on the bed next to her, catching his breath as she slowed hers. She turned her head to watch him recover. He lay there with his eyes closed for a time and then met her gaze immediately when he opened them. Tywin laid one arm over her and propped himself up on his elbow to look at her, his expression apologetic and a little embarrassed.  
Ailyn smiled warmly up at him and touched his chest.  
“I love you,” she whispered.  
Tywin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and then he gave her his half smile, tenderness radiating from his green gaze.  
“Ailyn, I…” he tried but his tongue stuck in his throat.  
She still smiled and moved her hand to press a finger against his lips.  
“I know, I heard you when I was recovering,” she offered quietly.  
Tywin’s mouth moved in surprise but no words came out.  
“I was unconscious most of the time but some conversations got through. I could never gather enough strength to speak or open my eyes, but I heard you say you loved me,” she reassured him.  
“And you came back,” he finished for her.  
Ailyn nodded affectionately.  
Lord Tywin leaned down and kissed her gently.  
“We can continue as before?” he asked hopefully, when he drew back.  
Ailyn shook her head.  
“Better than before,” she promised him.  
Tywin bent down and kissed her again so she could only feel, not see, his hand sliding over her stomach and down.  
The Hand of the King remained with his wife all day as they renewed their acquaintance with one another, pausing their conversation and activities only to eat and sleep.  
The next few days passed peacefully enough. Maergery and King Tommen came to see her and Kevan escorted her around the garden when she wished.   
The morning of King Tommen’s nameday celebration arrived more quickly than Ailyn had thought it would. Lady Ailyn and Lord Tywin rose at the same time and went to their respective dressing rooms to prepare for the coming day. Lord Tywin bathed and dressed with some minor assistance from his servant. He was about to slide his arms into his blue tunic when he heard a broken scream from Ailyn in the next room. Lord Tywin moved without thinking, grabbing a nearby dagger and running to Ailyn’s room, shouting hoarsely for his guards as he went.  
Din was just starting to open her door as he reached it. He shoved it roughly open, knocking the girl back against the wall as several guards from the hall arrived at his heels. His green eyes flew around the room and then settled on Ailyn who was kneeling on the floor, bent double with her wounded arm around her stomach, the other braced against the floor. Gana was also on the ground trying to help Ailyn up.  
“Ailyn,” began Lord Tywin and then stopped speaking and moving as she raised herself up to look at him.  
His dagger clattered to the floor.  
The lap of Ailyn’s white underdress was stained with blood. The color abruptly fled from his face as he turned his head to dismiss the guards who were about to enter the room. Cautiously, Din moved to close the door behind Lord Tywin, giving him a wide berth as she did so.  
Ailyn had been crying but choked back her tears when Lord Tywin ran into the room. She blinked up at him wetly as he met her eyes. He couldn’t move and was looking down at her in horror. Tywin wasn’t seeing her; he was seeing his nightmare.  
Ailyn swallowed hard and put her hand out to Tywin.  
“Tywin, I’m alright. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she repeated dismally, over and over.  
Mechanically, Tywin moved over to where she had collapsed on the floor and sank to his knees as Gana rose to get Ailyn some rags for her small clothing and a clean dress.  
“Ailyn … are you hurt?” he managed to get out, his eyes flicking from her face to the bloodstain.  
Ailyn shook her head, still trying to hold back her tears and reached out to touch his face.  
“I’m sorry I scared you. I’m not hurt, I promise. I’m just…being stupid…” she gasped out, looking away from him.  
“Get Pycelle,” Tywin barked at Gana. She stopped what she was doing at the sudden command.  
“No, no I don’t need him. Please, don’t bring him here,” pleaded Ailyn.  
“Then tell me what is going on. Why did you scream?” he demanded, raising her blotchy face to look at him.  
Gana didn’t move as Ailyn tried to explain.  
“It’s my…moonblood, that’s all,” whispered Ailyn, still distraught.  
“If it’s only that, then why are you this upset?” pressed Tywin, trying to understand, the fear passing.  
Ailyn looked disconsolately at the floor.  
“It hurt more than usual in its coming,” said Ailyn, not looking at him.  
“And?” prompted Tywin gently.  
Ailyn glanced up at him, her lip trembling a little.  
“And it’s been a month since we starting laying together. I just thought…I was hoping that…with you it might be different…that I might…be…” but she couldn’t bring herself to say it.  
“You were hoping for a child,” said Lord Tywin softly.  
Ailyn bit back a sob and nodded, still looking at the floor.  
Lord Tywin tried to hide his sigh of relief, that it was only this that had caused her to cry out.  
He reached out and cupped her face in both his hands, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.  
“Ailyn, look at me,” he requested gently.  
It took her a moment, but eventually she obeyed.  
“You are under no pressure from me to have a child. I know it is something you want very badly so I will try to give you one. Don’t lose hope so quickly, Ailyn. It took more than a year before Joanna became pregnant with Jaime and Cersei,” soothed Tywin.  
Ailyn’s eyes went wide. Tywin was never optimistic. The fact that he was trying to be so, in order to comfort her, meant more than his words. Ailyn forced a shaky smile.  
“Thank you,” she breathed gratefully.  
Tywin nodded and got to his feet, helping Ailyn up as he went.  
“Do you want me to…” Tywin trailed off, unsure of exactly how to assist Ailyn any further.  
“No, Gana and I can manage. I’ll finish dressing and be out in a little while,” promised Ailyn.  
Lord Tywin frowned at her.  
“You’ve had a shock and are in pain, Ailyn. You should rest for the day,” suggested Lord Tywin but Ailyn shook her head vehemently.  
“No. Today is the King’s nameday. It is important for his well being that we are both there with him. Even were I not worried about Tommen’s emotional state, it is my duty as the wife of the Hand of the King to be present today, regardless of my personal feelings,” said Ailyn firmly, drawing herself up and squaring her shoulders.  
A small smile tugged at the corner of Tywin’s mouth.  
“I could order you to bed but I think you would ignore me,” said Tywin, amused.  
“You think correctly,” replied Ailyn with an indulgent smile of her own.  
“My lady,” Tywin said, laying emphasis on the possessive, knowing that it pleased Ailyn.  
“My lord,” returned Ailyn in the same fashion.  
Lord Tywin turned to go but paused by the door in front of Din. The girl’s eyes went wide and she quickly retreated several steps to get out of his way.  
“Are you hurt?” he asked.  
Din’s mouth fell open in surprise. She shook her head in the negative and then watched him walk out the door, satisfied that he had not wounded Ailyn’s maid in his haste.  
Ailyn smiled at the closed door and then at Din, who started moving again after a moment.  
Gana quickly helped Ailyn out of her soiled underdress and handed her a clean pair of small clothes and some rags. Din brought her corset over when she was clothed again and went for Ailyn’s red dress at her request.   
Lord Tywin was sitting at his desk, writing when Ailyn stepped out. The quill paused on the page as she moved over to sit in front of her mirror so Gana could put back her hair. He watched her for a moment then finished his letter. Gana quickly twisted a small section of Ailyn’s hair back in an elegant knot while Din brought out the necklace Lord Tywin had given Ailyn before their wedding. Din slipped it on her as Gana held her hair out of the way. Ailyn traditionally never wore make up but she used a little powder today to even out the fading blotches in her cheeks from crying earlier. When she was satisfied, she stood up and turned to face Lord Tywin who had come to stand behind her. Din and Gana respectfully melted into the background.  
“Will this do?” asked Ailyn, smoothing out her crimson dress with her good hand. The other remained stiffly bent at her side. She could move it now without too much pain but still preferred not to.  
Lord Tywin looked at his necklace around her throat. She hadn’t worn it since their wedding.  
“I could not be more pleased or proud to have you at my side,” he murmured, stepping close to her and kissing her mouth.  
Ailyn smiled at him and walked with him, arm in arm to Tommen’s celebrations.   
The throne room has been transformed into an exotic menagerie for King Tommen’s eleventh nameday. Many were kept in cages spaced evenly down the length of the room. A few men walked around with brightly colored parrots on their shoulders. The two cages closest to the throne held magnificent lions while those farther away held a tiger, a large black panther, several large birds and a few shaggy animals from Essos that Ailyn had never seen before. Tommen walked hand in hand with Maergery to all the cages, delighted with everything. Ailyn walked with Lord Tywin, greeting guests and thanking those who had procured the animals for the King.   
“Maergery can we keep them?” asked Tommen of his wife as Ailyn and Lord Tywin came to stand with them before the lion cage.  
“I don’t know your Grace. Where would we keep them?” asked Maergery, glancing at Ailyn and Lord Tywin.  
“Perhaps something could be built within the city?” suggested Ailyn, thinking aloud.  
“We shall see. I suggest you enjoy them while they are here, Your Grace. The animals will need to be taken out by nightfall and housed properly,” replied Lord Tywin, looking down at his grandson.  
Tommen nodded and pulled Maergery over to what looked like overgrown shaggy goats.   
“Excuse me a moment,” murmured Lord Tywin, as he stepped away to speak with a small knot of lords.  
Ailyn took a glass of wine from a nearby steward, and tried to ignore her growing headache. She was going to need some milk of the poppy soon and then go to bed. Ailyn spotted Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne near the pen holding two sparklingly white stallions. She seemed happy but Jaime was dismayed although he was trying to hide it.  
Brienne smiled at Ser Jaime and then began walking to a refreshment table. Ailyn went over to her as Ser Jaime ran his hand through his hair and stared unseeingly at the horses before him.  
“Good evening Lady Brienne. I am pleased you have stayed in King’s Landing,” offered Lady Ailyn coming to stand beside the lady knight.  
“Lady Ailyn. My father is here with the idea of bringing me home however I have an audience with the King and Lord Tywin tomorrow which will change all that,” said Brienne proudly.  
“Lord Tywin hasn’t mentioned anything to me. Why do you need to speak to him?” asked Lady Ailyn curiously.  
“It is my wish to be named to His Grace’s King’s Guard,” Lady Brienne said firmly, her blue eyes sparkling.  
Ailyn tried to keep her mouth from falling open.   
“I see. Tommen would be lucky to have you protecting him. You are very brave, Lady Brienne; I do admire you,” admitted Ailyn with a smile.  
“Thank you, my lady. I am pleased you have recovered from your injury. If you would excuse me,” said Brienne, moving to speak with a tall, blonde haired man Ailyn assumed was her father.  
She watched the lady knight walk away, her mind swirling with concern.  
“Surely you can appreciate the irony of this situation as well as I can,” muttered Ser Jaime, coming to stand next to Ailyn.  
“Jaime you must speak with her before tomorrow or else Tywin may say something and confuse her,” urged Ailyn, as Jaime took a large quaff of wine.  
“I know. I’m trying to find just the right level of intoxication required for such a question.”  
Ailyn shook her head as Ser Jaime moved away from her. A pulse of pain shot across her forehead and Ailyn steadied herself on the table.  
“Are you unwell?” simpered an ingratiating voice from behind her as a hand gently came to rest on her lower back.  
Ailyn quickly looked to the side to see Lord Baelish’s smirk as he came to stand before her.  
“I have a slight headache, Lord Baelish, that is all,” said Ailyn firmly, removing his hand.  
“Perhaps you should retire for the night, my lady. The King is agreeably diverted and the Hand of the King is busy trying to keep our best merchants from squabbling. I’m sure any young man in this room would jump at the chance to carry you to bed, if you wished,” said Lord Baelish glibly.  
“I can take care of myself, Lord Baelish. As far as other men are concerned, I believe I married the only man in the room,” said Lady Ailyn coldly. “I assume you value your life so I will not repeat the filth you have just uttered within my hearing. Good night.”  
Ailyn drew herself up and stalked away from him. She went over to Tommen and Maergery and wished the King a happy nameday and gave Maergery a hug. Ailyn drew Lord Tywin away from the merchants to tell him that she needed to retire.  
“Is the pain that bad?” asked Lord Tywin quietly, looking at her with concern.  
“It will be soon. I’d like to walk out under my own power. Stay and do what you need to. I’ll see you later,” answered Ailyn softly, pressing his hand.  
Lord Tywin nodded and reluctantly watched his wife leave the hall. Gana met her in the hallway and together they made the long journey back to the Tower of the Hand.  
Ailyn woke briefly when Lord Tywin came to bed much later in the evening.  
“Better?” he whispered.  
“Much, now that you are here,” she whispered back, and dozed off again with her hand in his.  
The next morning, Ailyn was just finishing breakfast before Maergery was due to arrive when a message arrived for her.  
Frowning, Ailyn took the parchment and broke the Lannister seal. The message was short and sweet, Ailyn’s eyes flying over the three words from Ser Jaime with pleasure.

She said yes.


	39. The Last Wedding

“He said what to you?” demanded Lord Tywin, his brow furrowing in anger.  
Ailyn cleared her throat and repeated Lord Baelish’s words to her at King Tommen’s nameday celebration.  
Ailyn watched apprehensively as Lord Tywin Lannister’s jaw locked and his hands curled into fists.  
“Tywin, I am sure he had been drinking and wasn’t fully aware of what he was saying,” began Ailyn, walking quickly over to her incensed husband and clasping one of his hard fists.  
“Petyr Baelish is very aware of every word that crawls across that silver tongue of his. Those may be his last,” threatened the Hand of the King.  
Lord Tywin bellowed for a guard before Ailyn could say anything further.  
Their chamber door immediately opened and a Lannister guard moved swiftly to stand at attention before his lord.  
“Find Lord Baelish and bring him to the Small Council chamber immediately,” growled the Lion of Casterly Rock.  
The soldier bowed quickly and swept out in search of him.  
“Tywin, Lord Baelish may be many things but he is still of more use to you alive than dead,” cautioned Ailyn.  
“I’m not going to kill him, Ailyn, though I would dearly like to choke the life from him. He will be taught a lesson,” said Tywin Lannister darkly. “Come.”  
He held out his arm for her and together they walked to the Small Council chamber to await Lord Baelish’s arrival.  
“When he arrives, Ailyn, you will let me deal with him,” requested Lord Tywin, watching her.  
Ailyn swallowed and nodded, preparing herself for what she might have to witness or condone.   
They did not have to wait long. The upjumped Lord from the Fingers strode into the room with a smile on his face, holding his leather case of papers. His smile as well as his stride faltered however, upon seeing Lord Tywin’s stormy countenance and Lady Ailyn’s judgmental eyes. His worry grew as the four soldiers who brought him to the room remained within, waiting.  
“My Lord Hand, my Lady Ailyn, to what do I owe the honor of this summons?” asked Lord Baelish with a smile that did not reach his calculating eyes.  
“I brought you here to ask you a question,” growled Lord Tywin, striding over to Lord Baelish.  
Lord Baelish forced himself not to take a step back as the Hand of the King advanced on him.  
“I will tell you anything you wish to know, my lord,” replied Baelish carefully, his eyes flicking between Lord Tywin and Lady Ailyn.  
“Good. Then repeat what you said to my wife at the King’s nameday,” demanded Lord Tywin Lannister.  
Lord Baelish licked his lips and took a breath.  
“I told her she looked well after her recent ordeal,” answered the Master of Coin.  
“Go on,” prodded Lord Tywin coldly, prowling around Lord Baelish.  
“That was all, my lord,” insisted Lord Baelish, inclining his head to the circling lion.  
“I don’t think I need to warn you about the consequences of lying to me, Baelish,” breathed Lord Tywin, coming to a halt before his councilman.  
Ailyn watched Lord Tywin stare him down and then her husband’s sharp eyes flicked over to the guards who advanced at the silent summons.  
Two of them abruptly forced Lord Baelish to his knees despite his protestations, the leather case falling to the ground.  
Lord Tywin kicked it away.  
“Please, my lord, whatever you have heard, it is a falsehood. I would never insult Lady Ailyn,” pleaded Lord Baelish, his voice wavering in its certainty.  
“Are you calling my wife a liar?”   
“I…no…if I have given offense, I am deeply sorry for it,” he scrambled, trying not to look up at the guards holding him down by the shoulders.  
“I’ve asked you a question, Baelish. I will not repeat myself,” glared Lord Tywin angrily, his hands balling into fists at Lord Baelish’s eyelevel.  
“Lady Ailyn mentioned that she was a little fatigued from the celebrations and I…suggested that she could retire for the evening without drawing comment…” stammered Lord Baelish, licking his lips again nervously.  
“Told her that ‘any man would be happy to carry her to bed’ was I believe the phrase you used,” accused Tywin Lannister coldly.  
“No…I…” began Lord Baelish, but with another flick of Tywin’s eyes, one of his guards reached down and wrenched Lord Baelish’s right arm up behind his back.  
The hapless councilman cried out in pain then conceded, “Yes, yes, I said that. Forgive me, my lord!”  
Lord Tywin watched him sweat for a moment before turning around and walking to stand next to Ailyn.  
“If you insult Lady Ailyn, you insult me. I’ve killed for far less than that. Since you have proven yourself useful from time to time, I will let you live and give you a choice,” offered Lord Tywin.  
“A choice, my lord?” whimpered Lord Baelish as though he were being offered poison instead.  
“Yes. Would you rather keep your eyes or your tongue?” asked the Lord of Casterly Rock dispassionately.  
Ailyn glanced at Lord Tywin and then down at Lord Baelish who was visibly shaking.  
“P…please…Lord Tywin…I beg your forgiveness,” squirmed the unfortunate man.  
“It is my wife you should be begging for forgiveness,” corrected Lord Tywin.  
“My lady…Lady Ailyn…you have my word that I will never disrespect you again. I would be grateful for the opportunity to spend the rest of my life restoring your faith in me,” begged Lord Baelish, looking at her from the floor.  
Lord Tywin looked at Lady Ailyn to see if she accepted his words.  
Ailyn looked down at Lord Baelish, slowly coming to a realization. She would never be respected by a man like Lord Baelish because he was not afraid of her. Her only power came through Lord Tywin. She alone was no threat. As wife of the head of the Lannister family, she had to start acting like it.  
“I do forgive your thoughtless comment Lord Baelish,” said Lady Ailyn.  
She turned to Lord Tywin before he could give another order.  
“If the insult was mine, my lord, should I not also be the one to decide his punishment?” Ailyn asked smoothly.  
Lord Tywin considered her request with narrowed eyes, disliking her refusal to let him deal with the offender.  
‘Very well,” he allowed begrudgingly, scrutinizing her.  
In her peripheral, once Lord Tywin conceded the decision to her, she saw a quick smile of relief pass over Lord Baelish’s flushed face which confirmed her suspicions.  
“You would agree, my lord, that while Lord Baelish could still make himself useful on your council without either his eyes or his tongue, you would rapidly lose patience with him and ultimately take his head off for being a nuisance,” began Lady Ailyn, keeping her grey eyes fixed on Lord Baelish as she walked up to him.  
There was a pause from her lord.  
“I would,” he said behind her.  
“Tell me, Lord Baelish, what else do people call you? That clever nickname of yours, what is it?” she asked, looking down at him.  
“Littlefinger, my lady,” said Lord Baelish in a tight voice as the pain in his arm grew worse.  
“Littlefinger. A very apt name given your birth and the position you now hold. While you reside on the Hand of the King’s Small Council, you are merely one of the fingers and the Hand can easily function without you. I suggest your little finger be your penance as a reminder of what will come to pass if you ever address me in a deprecating manner again,” finished Lady Ailyn emotionlessly. She met the eyes of one of the guards and nodded.  
“No! No, wait. My lady, please! I beg you!” cried Lord Baelish as the guards holding him down dragged him to his feet and then marched him over to the council table. One of the soldiers grabbed Lord Baelish’s hand and drew a long dagger.  
“No. Lord Baelish is right handed. Take the finger from his left hand,” ordered Lady Ailyn, trying to ignore the uncomfortable roll of her stomach.  
She was aware that Lord Tywin had come to stand beside her but she kept her eyes on the men before her.  
Lord Baelish and the guards had their backs to her so she could not see what they were doing, but she heard the sickening sound of steel on bone and Petyr Baelish’s wild scream of agony. The guards stepped away from him when they were through and he slumped to his knees, cradling his hand against his stomach.  
“Take him to Maester Pycelle and clean the blood off my husband’s Council table,” said Lady Ailyn in a firm voice. She did not look at any of them as she swept out of the room and headed back to their bed chamber.  
Once inside, Ailyn walked to their dinner table and rested one hand on it, taking a long steadying breath. She was a little light headed and her heart was pounding in her ears. Ailyn didn’t hear Lord Tywin come up behind her but wasn’t startled when he turned her around to face him and held her against him. Lady Ailyn’s eyes closed and she sighed quietly as he kissed her forehead. Ailyn looked up at him when he held her away from him, his hands on her upper arms.  
“You aren’t angry with me, are you?” she asked softly, trying to read his expression.  
“No. Your solution was smart and sent the appropriate message. I will make a lion of you yet,” said Lord Tywin proudly, looking down at her with admiration in his gaze.  
Ailyn smiled back up at him, glad that she had pleased him but still a little sick at the thought of what she had done.   
“I have some other matters to attend to today,” began Lord Tywin.  
“So I will see you at dinner,” Ailyn finished for him.  
She went up on her toes and kissed his half smile, cupping her hand against his stubbly cheek.

 

“What about starting a school or an academy of sorts for girls?” asked Maergery over lunch the next day.  
“I like that idea. They should be able to learn skills there that will help them in life: sewing, weaving, cooking,” Ailyn ticked off jobs of the feminine persuasion on one finger.  
“What about to read and write?” suggested Maergery.  
“I think everyone should have the opportunity to learn their letters, not just the privileged few who are born to it. We could hire a school of Maesters to teach there, ones who are in training even to give them a chance to hone their knowledge and skills,” Ailyn went on.  
“Good, yes. Would you be able to convince Lord Tywin that this is a good idea?” asked Maergery, slightly concerned.  
“If I can make it a profitable one, I’m sure he will be very inclined to listen. Lord Tywin doesn’t share a great deal of money matters with me but believe Casterly Rock is still hurting from the loan to the crown and the war. I don’t think raising taxes just as the people are trying to get back on their feet is a good idea,” replied Ailyn.  
“Building a new fleet has given hundreds a means of living,” said Maergery, taking a handful of grapes in her hand.  
“True but only to able bodied men. There are still hundreds of widows and children who are still struggling,” countered Ailyn, cutting into a small honey cake.  
“The ships are going to need sails and those sails will undoubtedly be stamped with the Lannister sigil. Making, mending and embroidering sailcloth will require hundreds of seamstresses,” offered the Queen.  
“I should be making notes of our discussions.”  
“Will you write these proposals up and show them to Lord Tywin?” asked Maergery.  
“Yes, this afternoon. Something needs to be done for the people as soon as possible. I have an idea for work for children too which I will pass along to him,” said Ailyn thinking out loud.  
“You are smiling, Lady Ailyn,” prodded Maergery, returning it.  
“I enjoyed working with my first husband to better the lives of those in Willow Glen. Now I am trying to help the largest city in the Seven Kingdoms. I’m excited,” admitted Ailyn.   
“I’m pleased we are in a position to do so much good for those in need,” Maergery agreed.

 

“Ailyn, what is this?” asked Lord Tywin, taking a handful of documents from her the next day.  
“Maergery and I had some ideas for improvements in the city that would immediately benefit those living here and the ones still coming in. I would like you to look at them and tell me what you think when you have time,” explained Lady Ailyn as she stood before Lord Tywin’s desk in the Small Council room.  
Lord Tywin sighed and set them down on top of a large pile of other official documents.  
“You have my word that I will look at them, Ailyn, and discuss them with you when the time comes but I do have other matters which are equally as important that I am trying to deal with,” said Lord Tywin in a tired voice.  
“The Greyjoys still?” asked Ailyn gently.  
Lord Tywin nodded.  
“The North also remains to be secured. I am writing to the new head of the Karstark family in the hopes that they will see reason and join the realm again under the rule of King Tommen. We both had reason to hate the Starks and I am hoping that that shared bad blood will be enough to make them bend the knee,” explained the Hand of the King, reaching for a clean sheet of parchment.  
“And in return, you are giving them what?” prodded Ailyn.  
“The funds to rebuild Winterfell and install themselves in it,” replied Lord Tywin.  
Ailyn nodded.  
“I hope the head of the Karstarks has the same views on elevating one’s family as you do,” Ailyn said, looking down at him with a smile.  
“I believe that he does.”  
“And what about a new Lord Commander for the City Watch and King’s Guard?” pressed Ailyn.  
“Jaime is gathering a small group of candidates to submit for my approval in a few days before he and his wife leave for Casterly Rock.”  
Lord Tywin inked his quill and then paused to see if Ailyn had any further questions.  
“Then I will leave you be,” curtseyed Ailyn with a tender smile.

 

Ailyn came back to their chambers later in the evening to find her husband brooding by the fire. She went to him, brushing her hand down his arm as she came around in front of him. She knelt down by his right side and looked at him.   
“You’re troubled?” she whispered.  
He looked at her, only with his eyes; his head didn’t move. His dark expression eased as he looked at her but the shadow did not completely flee his countenance.  
“Pyke,” was all he said but the word burnt a hole in the ground at his feet.  
Ailyn sighed and nodded. She reached out and took his right hand, massaging it as she had done on the night of Joffrey’s murder.  
“You and Kevan haven’t scared them into being cooperative yet?” she asked with a smile.  
“They are testing my patience,” growled the lion of Casterly Rock.  
“And you are hesitating to move against them because they are a part of Westeros and should therefore be under the crown’s protection now that we are no longer at war?” asked Ailyn, still working the large muscle at the base of his thumb.  
“Something like that, yes,” replied Lord Tywin, clasping her hand.  
“I see your dilemma,” agreed Ailyn, leaning forward and kissing his hand.  
“But you know, when you married me, you gained more than just a pretty bedfellow,” hinted Ailyn playfully, twining her fingers in his.  
“I am aware of that,” replied Tywin, turning his head to focus his full attention on her.  
“You have several powerful new friends across the Narrow Sea whom I’m sure would be more than willing to listen to a proposal from you about perhaps, blockading all of Pyke until they learn submission,” offered Ailyn. “Pyke’s reaving ships have done enough damage to trade between Westeros and the Free Cities to warrant what would look like retribution for their past transgressions.”  
Lord Tywin Lannister narrowed his eyes at her, considering.  
“You will be able to keep your hand in it hidden, as you have before,” said Ailyn softly, looking down at his thin fingers wrapped around hers.  
“I remember how disgusted you were with me when you heard about the Red Wedding. I can’t help but think this suggestion of yours is mildly hypocritical,” answered Tywin searching her face.  
Ailyn sighed.  
“I know. I spoke without truly understanding you or your role as Hand of the King. Now, while I may not condone it, I understand why such actions may be necessary, for the greater good,” said Ailyn, looking up at him.  
Lord Tywin was silent but he drew Ailyn’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it.  
“Each day you give me another reason to be pleased with my choice to take you for my own,” said Tywin Lannister.  
“And I am honored each day to stand at your side,” replied Ailyn Lannister.  
Lord Tywin tugged on her hand until she stood and then pulled her forward until she settled into his lap. They kissed contentedly for a time and then, when kissing wasn’t enough, Tywin swept her up and carried her to the bed.

 

“But I don’t want to fight!” protested the little King, tossing down his wooden sword.  
“Your Grace, you will be the head of a magnificent army one day. The soldiers will look to you for direction and will respect you more if you fight with them instead of just ordering them to do their duty,” protested Ser Loras, bending down to pick up Tommen’s unwanted sword.  
“I don’t like blood and I don’t want to hurt anyone,” insisted the boy, crossing his arms over his chest.  
“But what if bad men want to hurt you?” argued Ser Loras, holding the sword out to Tommen.  
“Then I have you to protect me,” answered Tommen as though this were the obvious solution.  
Ailyn and Maergery looked at each other worriedly.  
Tommen was still very young but even at his age, most boys at least knew the rudiments of handling a sword or bow. Tommen had refused to learn either and was continuing to do so.  
“Your Grace,” began Ser Loras again but Ailyn interrupted him, and walked over to where they were standing.  
“Ser Loras if I might have a moment with the King,” requested Lady Ailyn, coming to stand before Tommen.  
Ser Loras bowed, laid the sword down and went to go speak with his sister.  
Ailyn knelt down and took Tommen’s hand.  
“Tommen, you know you must learn to use a sword,” insisted Ailyn gently.  
“But why must I when there are guards everywhere?” demanded the King.  
Ailyn was quiet for a moment and then tried again.  
“Tommen, you love Maergery don’t you?”  
“Yes,” he said instantly.  
“You don’t want anything to happen to her do you?” continued Ailyn even though she could tell she was worrying him.  
“No. Who would hurt her? She’s so nice,” said Tommen.  
“There are bad men in the world, Tommen, men who would hurt Maergery just because it’s fun to them.”  
“I wouldn’t let them,” retorted the King.  
“But how will you defend her if you do not learn to use a sword? How can you protect her?” Ailyn pressed on even though Tommen’s worried eyes were filling with tears.  
Tommen looked at Maergery without saying anything, his lower lip wobbling a little.  
“She is relying on you to know how to protect her should she ever need it, in much the same way your people will look to you if there is ever another war. You must know how to defend what you love because there will always be those who would take it from you,” said Ailyn quietly, still holding Tommen’s hand.  
Tommen looked from Ailyn to Maergery, scared and confused.  
Ailyn picked up the sword that Ser Loras had left on the ground and pressed it into Tommen’s hand.  
“For Maergery?” asked Ailyn. She disliked that she was manipulating and upsetting him, but the boy could not be coddled forever; not in this world.  
Tommen looked down at the sword in his hand, then back to Maergery then to Ailyn.  
“I don’t want her to get hurt,” said Tommen, a gentle waver in his voice.  
“Nor do I. If you are a strong warrior, she’ll never have to worry,” Ailyn assured him.  
“Will you be strong for her?”   
Tommen nodded. He still looked afraid but determination stopped his lower lip from trembling and he gripped the sword a little harder.  
“I know you will be, Tommen,” said Ailyn with a smile. She leaned in and kissed his forehead, then stood up and looked at Maergery and Loras.  
“Ser Loras, the King is ready now,” she called walking away from Tommen.  
Ser Loras nodded and returned to stand with the King as Ailyn took her place beside the Queen.

 

The wedding of Jaime Lannister and Brienne Tarth was a lovely affair. It would have been difficult to say who looked the happiest between the bride and groom; they both beamed in each other’s company. The words in the Sept were said with love and devotion. Lord Tywin surprised Ailyn when she suddenly felt his hand clasp hers and press it warmly as his son repeated his vows. Lady Ailyn smiled at Lord Tywin and he at her. The feast was large and merry as befits a wealthy wedding in the capitol.  
“Does this match still displease you, Tywin?” asked Ailyn after a few glasses of wine.  
Lord Tywin glanced at her in alarm and then surreptitiously looked about for Lord Selwyn Tarth but he was off at another table on the other side of the room.  
“Ailyn, watch your tongue,” he chided gently, taking the cup from her hand.  
“Oh, Lord Selwyn is over there. Look at how happy your son is. Surely you are happy for him even though there were other matches that may have been more politically beneficial,” pressed Ailyn in a softer voice.  
“I would have preferred a different wife for Jaime but … he would have no one else,” replied Lord Tywin quietly, watching Brienne and Jaime lean close together as they spoke over their wine cups.  
“I would say that between Ser Jaime’s strength and love of family and Lady Brienne’s unflinching sense of honor and justice that your family’s legacy is in good hands,” Ailyn reassured Tywin who took another pensive sip from his cup.  
“It will be in better hands once she gives him a son,” answered Lord Tywin.  
Ailyn winced and looked down into her lap.  
“She is worth more than just what is between her legs,” said Ailyn, trying not to be hurt by his words.  
“Ailyn, I didn’t…you know I don’t feel that way about you,” Lord Tywin amended quickly, looking over at his wounded wife.  
“I know you didn’t say that to hurt me, Tywin, and I know only too well how much it matters that you see the Lannister name flourish in its continuity but, at least for tonight, may we talk of something else?” suggested Ailyn, making herself meet Lord Tywin’s concerned gaze.  
“Dance with me?” asked Tywin Lannister wanting to distract her, holding out his hand to her.  
Ailyn smiled.  
“We can’t dance before the bride and groom, Tywin,” protested Ailyn, taking his hand anyway and rising with him.  
“Then they’ll dance with us. Your Grace, Queen Maergery, will you join us as well?” asked the Hand of the King, looking down the table at them.  
Maergery smiled happily and looked over at Tommen. She whispered something to him and Tommen bobbed his head with a grin.  
Meanwhile, Ailyn was trying to catch Jaime’s attention. He glanced their way when they stood up and Ailyn inclined her head in the direction of the minstrels. Jaime seemed surprised but quickly spoke with Brienne who smiled at Jaime fondly and agreed.  
The growing Lannister family all walked together to the dance area and spent the rest of the evening in harmony.

Author’s note: This will be the second last chapter in Ailyn and Tywin’s story. I’ve enjoyed writing about them and all your support has meant so much to me but I have some other writing projects I’ve been wanting to get to. A few more Tywin ideas as well. Thanks for sticking with me this long.


	40. Epilogue

Note: These are short snippets of events in Ailyn and Tywin’s future.

 

“Keep your eyes closed, Ailyn,” warned Lord Tywin as he led her forward.  
“Tywin, where are you taking me?” asked Ailyn as she took several more hesitant steps.  
“Can’t you tell?” he queried.  
“We’re outside. Much more than that, I’m not sure,” she replied, resisting the urge to put her hands out in front of her.  
“There. You can open your eyes now,” said Tywin quietly, removing his hands from her arm and waist.  
Ailyn blinked in the afternoon sunlight.  
They were out in the courtyard near the stables and raven roosts. There was a young, dark haired man before her whom she didn’t recognize but she caught her breath at what he held on the edge of his hand.  
“Oh Tywin!” exclaimed Ailyn in wonder. “A grey hawk! Where did you find one?”  
The fledgling hawk let out a shriek and flapped its wings experimentally as Ailyn drew closer.  
“With difficulty. I thought it would make a better nameday gift than another necklace or gown,” said her lord, as he watched her with a small, indulgent smile.  
“It’s beautiful, thank you!” she breathed, reaching out and gently ruffling the silvery grey feathers on its chest.  
It shrieked at her again but didn’t try to bite.  
“This is Ser Trystan. He will care for your hawk while the animal gets used to you during its training,” introduced Lord Tywin coming to stand beside her.  
“Ser Trystan, thank you for your service,” said Lady Ailyn graciously.  
“I am honored to be of assistance, my lady,” he replied respectfully. “My Lord Hand.”  
As the young man strode off, Ailyn turned to Tywin and threw her arms around him in girlish delight.  
Tywin returned her embrace then held her away from him so he could speak to her.  
“Ailyn, I know how much you miss Willow Glen, what you gave up to stay here with me. And while you are constantly surrounded by my heritage, I don’t want you to forsake your own. As much as I like the idea of you becoming a Lion, you are a Hawk first and I don’t want you to change that. Not for me or anyone,” Tywin said softly.  
Ailyn’s grey eyes teared up at his words.  
“That means so much to me, Tywin.”  
She looked away from him briefly.  
“When Lord Darren died, I thought I would spend the rest of my life alone and unhappy.”  
Ailyn met his eyes again.  
“You changed all that for me. I’ve never been happier than I am now,” she admitted, leaning into him.  
She went up on her toes and kissed him before he could say anything else.  
“Ailyn,” chided Lord Tywin, glancing around even though they were alone.  
“Unless you want me to show my gratitude right here in the courtyard, I suggest we retire to our bedchamber,” she murmured throatily, looking up at him from under her lashes.  
Lord Tywin rumbled and gave her a look that sent a pulse of anticipation down her spine. He took her by the arm and led her out of the courtyard as quickly as was decent.

* * * * *  
“Forgive the intrusion, my lord, but Lady Ailyn wishes to see you. She’s in your chambers,” said one of Lord Tywin’s personal guards.  
Lord Tywin frowned at the unexpected interruption but rose to see Ailyn anyway. He walked quickly down the hall to their chamber and strode into the room. He didn’t see her right away but caught a glimpse of her figure out on their balcony and went to her.  
“Ailyn, what is it?” asked Lord Tywin, coming to stand beside her.  
His wife turned to him with a brief smile but tears shown in her eyes.  
“I have good news for you,” she said, sounding happy but the tremor in her voice belied her words.   
“Go on,” prompted Tywin, though he was worried.  
“The Queen is pregnant,” said Lady Ailyn, choking on the last word.  
“Maergery is with child?” repeated Tywin, as the news sunk in.  
“It’s been two months since she flowered. She sent for Maester Pycelle as I was leaving.”  
Ailyn was pleased to see the relief on her husband’s face.  
“The throne will be secure for Tommen now, for our family,” Ailyn assured him, as a tear trickled down her cheek.  
Tywin reached out and wiped it away for her.  
His gesture broke down her self-restraint and she wept against his shoulder as he held her quaking body.  
“I am happy for her and for us,” Ailyn tried again brokenly, curling her fingers into his tunic.  
“I know you are,” said Lord Tywin softly into her hair.

 

* * * * *  
The birth of King Tommen’s son was announced on a cold day some seven months later. The snow had abated, leaving the city frosted white but still humming with activity. Some, who had come to the capitol during the War of Five Kings, had returned home or sought out other towns to make their home in. Of the ones who did stay, each family, school, and orphanage within King’s Landing was given a gift of fire wood and a loaf of bread to celebrate the healthy birth of the heir to the throne.  
King Tommen, who had grown into strong, confident young man, stood tall and proud on the raised dais outside the Sept of Baelor. He waved to the assembled crowd with one hand, the other surreptitiously supporting the Queen, who had insisted on coming with him.   
Lady Ailyn and the Hand of the King were with them as well, standing off to their left, looking on proudly. Lady Ailyn waved and smiled though Lord Tywin remained stern and watchful as always.  
Suddenly, from somewhere off in the distance, a chant began. It raced through the crowd like wild fyre, rising even above the clanging of the bells of all the septs in the city.   
“Lann-i-ster, Lann-i-ster, Lann-i-ster!”  
Ailyn looked over at Lord Tywin. She had had it on authority from Lady Genna over a flagon of wine one night, that Lord Tywin had smiled the day Jaime and Cersei were born. There was a smile on his face now, still not one that lit up his face or even stretched across his whole mouth, but it was a wider smile than Ailyn had seen since the day they were married.  
She leaned in close to him and said over noise, “It’s wonderful isn’t it?”  
The Hand of the King looked down at her, sunlight glinting off his silver hair and the golden pin on his chest.  
“What is?”  
“When you get something you didn’t know you wanted.”  
They shared a silent look of understanding as the King made a short but kind speech thanking them for their prayers for his family. The King, his Hand and their ladies returned to the warmth inside the Sept of Baelor to a thunderous cheer as the bells rang on. 

 

* * * * *  
“It may be time for us to have a feast for the lords and merchants across the Narrow Sea again. They have done a great deal for us over the years,” remarked Lady Ailyn to Lord Tywin as they sat in the Small Council chamber.  
Lady Ailyn now had her own desk off to the left of Tywin’s, parallel with the side wall. He was still the Hand of the King but she was his.   
“They have not offered such a gesture to King’s Landing; we have helped grow their cities’ wealth as much as they have contributed to ours,” answered Lord Tywin, not looking up from the letter he was reading.  
“True but they have not gathered together since our wedding, at least not to my knowledge,” said Ailyn, glancing up at Lord Varys who was standing beside her.  
“They have not, my lady,” said Lord Varys.  
“Can we afford to do this, Lord Baelish?” asked Lady Ailyn of the Master of Coin standing beside her husband’s desk.  
“The crown could easily accommodate two or three day’s worth of lavish dinners and entertainment, my lady,” Lord Baelish responded carefully.  
Ailyn looked at Lord Tywin and waited.  
Finally, he looked up at her and set the letter down with a sigh.  
“A wise man once told me that a display of generosity and power is seldom worthless,” offered Ailyn with a fond look.  
The corner of Lord Tywin’s mouth quirked into his smile and he shook his head.  
“Very well, Ailyn. Arrange it but not for another month. I want this spat between Dorne and Pyke sorted before I invite the heads of seven hundred ships into our waters,” acquiesced Lord Tywin.  
Ailyn nodded and made a note to write up the invitations in a few weeks.  
“I think that will be all for today, Lord Varys,” said Lady Ailyn. “See about finding someone discreet to investigate the orphanage near Rhaenys Hill. The cost of maintaining it has risen suspiciously over the last year. If Braxton Warren is using the crown’s funds for anything other than the running of the orphanage, I will hear his explanation.”  
Next to Lord Tywin, Petyr Baelish tightened his nine fingers on his leather case.  
Lady Ailyn handed Lord Varys the Order of Inspection which held the signature of the Hand.  
“At once, my lady,” assured Varys, bowing low to her and then again to Lord Tywin before leaving the Small Council chamber.  
“Take these with you, Baelish,” Lord Tywin said dismissively, handing Lord Baelish several summons’ and a small quantity of bills.  
“My Lord Hand,” bowed Baelish, taking the papers and exiting the room.  
Lady Ailyn stood up, stretched her back and went to stand before her husband.  
“Dinner in an hour?” she suggested quietly.  
He glanced up at her and nodded.  
She smiled at him and turned to leave but stopped when she was near the door.  
“Oh, I meant to give this to you yesterday,” muttered Ailyn, walking quickly back to her desk and plucking a paper from it.  
She laid it in his tray of papers to be read for approval and turned to go again but Lord Tywin stopped her.  
“Wait.”  
Ailyn stopped and watched in mute shock as he took the page and signed his name to it without looking over it.  
“But…you didn’t read it,” stammered Ailyn, still looking at him with wide eyes as he set the page down in his ‘finished’ pile.  
He put his quill down and met his wife’s startled gaze.  
“Between ourselves, Ailyn, I haven’t read the last fifty or so requests that you have given me for approval. I have faith in your judgment that what you put before me is sound and for the good of the realm,” the Hand of the King informed her.  
Lady Ailyn simply stared at him for a moment.  
“Does this mean we are no longer enemies?” she quipped, remembering their argument when they first met.  
Lord Tywin gave her his half smile again.  
“We have not been enemies for some time now, my lady,” he replied in good humor.  
Ailyn went around his desk and kissed him firmly.  
“We should have done something to celebrate,” she whispered with a warm smile.  
“There is plenty of time for that,” Tywin assured her, taking her hand and kissing her open palm.  
“We’ll start tonight then,” she murmured into his ear before kissing the top of his head tenderly and walking lightly out of their Council room.

 

* * * * *  
Lord Tywin had just finished pressing his lion sigil into the hot wax on his latest letter, when Lady Ailyn came into the Small Council chamber unannounced. He glanced up, surprised to see her and then grew puzzled at the man following her carrying a long wooden box.  
“Set it down on the table, please,” requested Ailyn, with a warm smile at her husband.  
Tywin raised an eyebrow in response as the man set the box down on his Small Council table and then, with a polite bow, quickly left the room.  
“Ailyn, what is this?” asked Lord Tywin, rising and walking over to her.  
She had been happy the last few days and just now, her face was full of love and contentment.  
“Open it,” she answered cryptically, clearly anticipating a reaction from him once he found whatever was in the box.  
He narrowed his eyes at her but she gave nothing away. Ailyn gestured to the box and smiled even wider.  
Lord Tywin decided to humor her and reached out to open the long box before him.  
The clasp was simple steel and he snapped it back with ease. He glanced at her again before opening it and was sure that if she had had any less self restraint, Ailyn would have been dancing on the balls of her feet like a little girl.  
Tywin Lannister flipped back the lid of the box and froze, his face going slack.  
“Is this…?” he whispered, his green eyes riveted on the box’s contents.  
“Yes,” Ailyn whispered back excitedly.  
Lord Tywin Lannister reached into the box and drew out a magnificent Valyrian steel sword. He stepped back a few paces and held it before him, gazing at it in wonder. The gold dusting on the hilt flashed in the sunlight, the rubies sparkled in the cross piece and the fearsome lion roared proudly as its etching ran down the length of the blade.  
“Brightroar,” breathed the eldest Lannister, still holding it aloft.  
“How…?” was all Lord Tywin managed to get out.  
“One of Lord Varys’ spies found it a few weeks ago, gathering rust in the cellar of some old woman in Volantis. I wanted to have it cleaned properly before I gave it to you,” said Lady Ailyn happily.  
She went to him and kissed him lightly on the lips but the Lion of Casterly Rock barely reacted to her; he was still staring at the sword intently, as though it would vanish if he blinked.  
Ailyn grinned and then gently turned his head to look at her.  
His green eyes met hers and she knew she had pleased him.  
“I thought perhaps you might want to give it to your son when we visit him next month to celebrate the birth of his own,” she suggested quietly.  
“Ailyn, you’ve given our family back its long lost ancestral blade,” said Lord Tywin, looking at her with the same reverence as he had given the sword.  
Ailyn smiled warmly and kissed him again.  
“Well, I couldn’t think of anything else to get you for your nameday,” she replied with a light laugh.  
Lord Tywin let out a breath that could have been a laugh and set the sword down so he could gather up his wife in his arms.  
“I love you, Ailyn,” declared the proud patriarch.  
“And I love you, Tywin,” affirmed the lady from Willow Glen.  
The warmth of their kiss burned brighter than all the fires in Red Keep and was worth more than all the gold in Casterly Rock.

 

Note: Cheers to everyone for their love and constructive comments throughout this story. I will be posting a new Tywin story within the next month or so (completely unrelated to this one). I have enjoyed this journey and welcome you to come along on my next one.


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